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PRINXETON  . NEW  JERSEY 


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PRESENTED  BY 

Pr e shyt er ifin  Church  in  the  U.3.A. 
Department  of  History 

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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/maycastletonsmisOOmcke 


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> it  iaiiilM.\\  an.liiir^  the  Ix  avms, 

F:nnti^iiirrr.  p u,(j_ 


ll<'  {H'iijt.'.l  t< 
Mufj  ( 'aslh:ttjn' s Mi^isillll. 


May  Castleton’s  Mission. 


BY  THE  ACTHOE  OP 

“ROSE  DELANEY’S  SECRET,”  “EDITH’S  MINISTRY,” 
“ FLORENCE  CLIFTON,”  &c.,  &c. 


ul-lar^iei  Ker.'e<-  3 


“Charity  sctiteeih  long  and  is  kisd.” 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PEESBYTERIAN  BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION, 


1334  CHESTNUT  STREET. 


^nte^eQ  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1866,  by 
WM.  L.  IIILDEBURN,  Treasurer, 
in  trmt  for  the 

PRESBYTERIAN  PUBLICATION  COMMITTEE, 


Id  V.e  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District 
of  Pennsylvania. 


6TERB0TTPBD  BY  WESTCOTT  & THOMSON. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEK  I. 

PAGE 

DREAMS 5 

CHAPTER  II. 

MISTAKES 19 

CHAPTER  III. 

TinNKINQ  AND  ACTING 31 

CHAPTER  IV. 

PATIENCE  TRIED 49 

CHAPTER  V. 

MAY’S  COUSINS 65 

CHAPTER  VI. 

HENRY’S  BIRTH-DAY 80 

3 


4 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PASS 

FAREWELL  10  AJIERICA 97 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN lU 

CHAPTER  IX. 

MAY’S  MORNING  WALK 130 

CHAPTER  X. 

RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS 114 

CHAPTER  XL 

THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD 165 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK 185 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  SnSSION. 


205 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DREAMS, 

It  is  Sabbath  evening,  calm  and 
still.  A heavenly  glow  spreads  over 
the  lovely  landscape ; the  sun  is  drop- 
ping his  last  rosy  rays  behind  the 
distant  hills ; the  cattle  are  lowing 
softly  as  they  are  seen  quietly  return- 
ing home ; the  birds  are  singing  their 
twilight  melodies  among  the  trees. 

A fine  old  family  mansion,  with  its 
piazza  stretching  all  around  the  house, 
forms  a striking  feature  of  this  pretty 
picture.  Situated  in  the  midst  of  a 

1 » 5 


6 MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 

noble  park,  it  is  delightfully  shaded 
from  the  summer  sun. 

There  are  many  rustic  seats  scat- 
tered about  under  the  leafy  trees, 
and  upon  one  of  these  is  seated  a 
young  girl  in  the  first  blush  of  dawn- 
ing womanhood.  She  is  thinking 
deeply ; a book  lies  on  her  lap,  and 
her  hands  are  folded  listlessly  over 
the  volume. 

On  this  sweet  Sabbath  day,  an  im- 
portant era  had  just  dawned  upon 
May  Castleton’s  life.  Seventeen  years 
of  childhood  and  youth  have  already 
passed,  and  amid  the  hallowed  asso- 
ciations of  the  village  church,  she  had 
that  day  taken  upon  her  fresh  young 
soul  the  obligations  of  the  Christian 
covenant.  It  was  to  her  peculiarly  a 
solemn  and  eventful  act,  for  May 
would  be  the  only  professed  disciple 


DREAMS. 


7 


of  the  Lord  Jesus  beneath  her  father’s 
roof. 

She  thought  much  and  deeply  over 
the  impressive  scenes  in  the  house  of 
God.  “ Thine  forever”  was  the  spirit 
of  that  open  consecration,  and  May 
Castleton  felt  what  need  there  was  of 
divine  grace  to  guide  her  in  the  path 
that  she  had  chosen. 

Her  cousin,  Ellen  Hazleton,  had 
partaken  in  the  solemn  acts  of  the 
morning,  but  although  faithfully  in- 
structed, the  levity  of  her  natural 
character  awakened  many  fears  in  the 
hearts  of  friends  anxious  regarding 
her  Christian  character.  She  dearly 
loved  her  cousin  May,  was  an  impres- 
sible character,  and  sympathy  with 
other  young  friends  had  much  to  do 
with  the  public  profession  of  the 


morning. 


8 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Ellen’s  brother  Henry  had  regarded 
the  scene  with  feelings  of  uneasiness, 
for  well  he  knew  the  earnest  character 
of  May  Castleton,  and  regarded  this 
open  profession  as  a declaration  that 
henceforth  their  paths  must  lie  in 
spirit  far  apart. 

If  he  could  only  hope  that  May 
would  be  an  accommodating  Christian, 
like  some  that  he  could  name  among 
his  acquaintances  in  IS’ew  York,  he 
should  not  feel  so  much  repugnance ; 
but  for  this,  he  had  no  hope,  and  he 
felt  the  risings  of  an  unrenewed  will 
against  the  sacrifice. 

There  will  be  many  trials  in  the 
journey  of  the  young  Christian,  for 
she  will  be  all  alone,  as  a discijde  of 
the  Lord  Jesus,  in  the  domestic  circle. 
May  is  thinking  of  all  this,  as  in  a 


DREAMS. 


9 


deeply  serious  mood,  she  recalls  the 
acts  of  the  morning. 

The  memory  of  her  mother  returns 
with  all  her  heavenly  teaching,  on  this 
quiet  evening.  She  has  been  a saint 
in  glory  for  four  years ; but  May  re- 
members the  twilight  hours,  the  walks 
together  to  the  house  of  Giod,  the 
meek  and  lowly  example  of  that  dear 
l^arent,  the  lingering  months  of  sick- 
ness, the  patient  sutfering,  the  blessed 
hopes  and  triumphs  of  the  dying- 
hour,  and  she  recalls  with  reverential 
love,  the  last  charge  of  that  beloved 
mother.  The  first  glow  of  disciple- 
ship  is  fresh  within  the  young  heart, 
and  she  is  planning  for  the  future; 
but  May  has  much  to  learn,  and  much 
to  conquer ; and  like  many  other 
young  servants  of  God,  must  learn  by 
mistakes  made  in  the  heat  of  youthful 


10 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


zeal.  She  raises  her  eyes  for  a mo- 
ment, and  turning  her  head  towards 
the  gate  of  the  avenue,  the  form  of  a 
young  girl  is  seen  advancing.  It  is 
Ellen  Hazleton,  a cousin  of  about  her 
own  age,  who  resides  near  “the 
Elms,”  for  this  is  the  name  of  the 
Castleton  homestead. 

“ I am  glad  to  see  you,  Ellen,”  said 
the  young  girl ; “ come,  sit  down,  I 
want  to  talk  with  you.” 

“ What  are  you  reading,  May?”  in- 
quired the  young  lady. 

“ The  ‘ Young  Disciple,’  was  the  an- 
swer, “ but  it  is  very  discouraging,  for 
I am  afraid  that  I shall  never  be  like 
Anzonetta  Peters.” 

“ I should  be  very  sorry  if  you 
should  be  such  a sad  mournful  Chris- 
tian as  she  was,  dear  May.” 

“ But  you  forget,  Ellen,  that  it  was 


DREAMS. 


11 


not  her  religion  that  made  her  sad ; it 
was  her  affliction ; her  piety  was  a 
source  of  the  purest  happiness.” 

“ Well,  May,  if  she  had  been  in 
good  health,  she  would  have  been  one 
of  those  heavenly  beings  who  are  too 
good  for  earth.  For  my  part,  I don’t 
believe  that  religion  requires  us  to 
give  up  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world ; 
if  I had  thought  so,  I would  never 
have  joined  the  church.” 

“ But,  Ellen,  let  us  think  for  one 
moment  what  we  have  covenanted  to- 
day; words  must  have  some  mean- 
ing ; our  obligations  are  very  solemn ; 
we  have  promised,  dear  cousin,  to  be 
the  Lord’s,  and  are  therefore  bound  to 
renounce  whatever  interferes  with 
such  a service.” 

“ Why,  May,  very  few  people  seem 
to  take  such  a serious  view  of  it  as 


12 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


you  do.  When  I Avas  in  iN’ew  York 
last  year,  I used  to  see  church-mem- 
bers at  the  opera,  and  the  theatre,  and 
in  the  ball-room,  just  doing  as  other 
people. 

“ Yes,  Ellen,  I know  all  that,  but  I 
am  still  coiiAunced  that  to  be  a happy 
Christian,  the  whole  heart  must  be 
giA'en  to  the  Saviour ; if  not,  it  will  be 
a very  miserable  service.” 

“ I am  afraid.  May,  that  you  are 
going  to  be  a real  little  Methodist.  I 
don’t  believe  that  Uncle  Castleton  will 
consent  that  his  lovely  daughter 
should  immure  herself  so  wholly  from 
the  world.” 

“I  cannot  be  contented,  Ellen,  just 
to  live  as  so  many  Christians  do. 
Last  week  I Avas  reading  about  Esther 
Wingate,  Avho  has  so  lately  gone  out 


DREAMS. 


13 


as  a Missionary  to  China.  What 
would  I give  to  be  a Missionary !” 

“ What  do  you  think  of  her  mar- 
riage, May  ? I was  told  that  she  only 
knew  Mr.  Taylor  one  week.” 

“ Is  that  really  so,  Ellen  ? that  does 
indeed  seem  like  a matter  of  business ; 
but  really  I do  believe  that  I have 
some  talents,  and  we  are  told  not  to 
bury  them  under  a bushel ; I must  do 
something  for  the  Lord,  Ellen.” 

“ There  comes  brother  Henry,”  said 
Ellen,  and  a youth  of  twenty  appeared 
upon  the  avenue. 

“Well,  coz,”  said  the  young  man, 
“ I suppose  that  you  are  really  sepa- 
rated from  all  your  old  companions 
now ; I tell  you  that  I did  not  feel 
very  highly  pleased  when  I saw  you 
before  the  church  to-day.” 

“Why  so,  Henry?  You  certainly 
2 


14 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


do  not  think  that  I shall  love  ni}'-  dear 
cousins  any  the  less,  l3ecaiise  1 have 
promised  to  love  and  serve  my  Sa- 
viour more.” 

“Xot  exactly  that,  May,  but  I know 
something  of  your  earnest  nature,  and 
I am  pretty  sure  that  if  what  you  are 
pleased  to  call  duty  interferes,  I shall 
miss  many  of  our  pleasant  rambles 
and  delightful  horse-back  rides.” 

“ Would  you  like  to  know  one  of 
my  wishes  to-day,  Henry  ?”  said  the 
young  girl,  turning  her  sweet  face 
upon  her  cousin. 

“ Certainly,  May,  if  it  concerns  your 
humble  servant.” 

“ I wished,  oh ! how  earnestly,  that 
you  were  among  the  number  of  those 
who  presented  themselves  to-day.” 

“You  did,  coz?  I thank  you  for 
your  kind  wishes  ; but  I must  taste  a 


Herirv  sat  rapping  las  cane  impafieiitlv  an  his  boats. 
May  Cai^tUtini's  Mission. 


1\  15. 


/ 


j 


DREAMS. 


15 


little  more  of  the  good  and  beaatiful 
world,  before  I consent  to  become 
such  a devotee  as  you  would  ap- 
prove.” 

“ I shall  remember  you  in  my 
prayers,  cousin.” 

“ What  is  this  that  you  have  here  ?” 
he  said,  taking  up  her  book.  “You 
are  too  serious.  May,  you  will  lose  all 
your  charming  spirits,  if  you  become 
such  an  enthusiast.” 

Tears  sprang  into  the  dark  eyes,  as 
she  felt  how  little  sympathy  there  was 
now  between  herself  and  the  cousin 
who  had  always  been  dear  to  her  as 
her  own  brother. 

Henry  sat  awhile  with  his  head 
bowed,  and  rapping  his  cane  impa- 
tiently upon  his  boots. 

“It  is  too  bad,  May ; I had  hoped 
that  when  we  should  visit  Yew  York 


16 


MAY  Ot\STLETON’S  MISSION. 


next  winter,  I should  have  your  com- 
pany in  many  a gay  party ; now,  I 
supjiose  that  I must  go  alone  to  opera, 
liall,  and  theatre,  for  May  is  no  more 
one  of  us.” 

“ There  is  something  Henry,  so 
much  better.  I felt  it  so  deejily  this 
morning  when  Ave  sang  that  SAveet 
hymn,”  and  she  repeated  the  lines, 

“ 0,  happy  day ! that  stays  my  choice 
On  thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  God ; 

Well  may  this  glowing  heart  rejoice 
And  tell  thy  goodness  all  abroad.  ’ ’ 

By  this  time,  the  shadoAvs  of  even- 
in  o-  warned  them  to  return  to  the 

o 

house. 

“ Where  have  you  been  so  long, 
sister?”  said  little  Flora. 

“ I haAm  been  out  under  the  trees 
AAuth  my  book,  until  Henry  and  Ellen 
joined  me,” 


DREAMS. 


17 


“ I have  wanted  you  so  much,  for  1 
am  so  lonesome  when  you  are  away, 
papa  has  been  up  stairs  so  long,  and 
brother  Edward  is  out  riding  still.” 

“ Why  did  you  not  get  a book. 
Flora?”  said  the  sister,  “that  would 
amuse  you.” 

“ I get  tired  of  books.  May,  I want 
some  one  to  tell  me  nice  stories  with 
their  own  words.” 

Henry  looked  towards  May,  and 
wondered  if  this  ministry  were  not  a 
part  of  her  mission ; perhaps  she  may 
find  it  so,  if  she  really  desires  to  serve 
her  Master. 

May  Castleton  was  really  a very 
lovely  girl,  with  a warm  impulsive 
heart,  anxious  to  know  her  duty  that 
she  might  glorify  her  Master;  but 
like  many  young  disciples,  in  looking 
out  upon  the  world  as  her  field  of 
2 » 


18 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


labor,  she  had  forgotten  her  invalid 
father,  a brother  younger  than  her- 
self, and  little  Flora,  a sister  about 
ten  years  of  age,  whom  she  might 
bless  if  looking  in  upon  her  own 
household. 


MISTAKES. 


19 


CHAPTER  II. 

MISTAKES. 

It  is  the  close  of  a very  busy  day, 
for  May  has  been  out  all  the  morning 
among  her  Sunday  School  class  visit- 
ing them,  and  leaving  a tract  at  each 
humble  cottage;  but  there  are  some 
strangely  dissatisfied  feelings  in  her 
young  heart  as  she  stands  at  the  par- 
lor window  looking  out  in  an  ab- 
stracted manner  upon  the  landscape. 

“What  are  you  dreaming  about, 
May?”  asked  her  father. 

She  started  from  her  reverie,  and 
replied,  “Many  things,  dear  papa,  I 
can  scarcely  tell  what.” 


520 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ I wish,  May,  that  you  would  stop 
dreaming,  and  commence  acting  like 
. a really  sensible,  useful  girl.” 

“I  am  trying  to  be  useful,  papa;  all 
the  morning  I have  been  out  among 
my  Sunday  School  children,  but  they 
are  so  idle  and  vicious,  that  I don’t 
think  I am  doing  them  any  good.” 

“1  would  not  give  a fig  for  all  your 
religion.  May ; it  is  all  cant  and  hy- 
pocrisy. I heard  you  tell  your  little 
sister  to  go  out  and  play  with  the 
coachman’s  little  boy ; and  while  you 
are  rambling  all  around  the  neighbor- 
hood in  search  of  a mission,  there  was 
poor  little  Flo  tearing  around  the 
wood-pile,  and  in  the  stable-yard, 
learning  all  kinds  of  improiDer  lan- 
guage from  this  rude  boy.” 

May  dropped  her  head,  for  tins  was 
all  true,  and  it  darted  through  her 


MISTAKES. 


21 


mind  as  a ray  of  liglit  shot  by  a keen 
arrow. 

“Have  you  practiced  any  to-day?” 
continued  the  father  in  an  impatient 
tone  of  voice. 

“ I have  had  no  time,  papa ; I was 
home,  I was  very  tired,  beside  my 
morning  reading  had  to  be  attended 
to  in  the  afternoon.” 

“I  tell  you.  May,  I will  have  no 
more  of  this  nonsense;  I have  gone  to 
the  expense  of  a fine  instrument,  and 
, the  best  teachers ; I have  spent  hun- 
dreds upon  your  music,  and  I expect 
you  to  cultivate  your  talent  for  my 
amusement.” 

May  was  deeply  mortified  by  her 
father’s  reproofs,  and  the  more  so,  as 
she  felt  that  they  were  not  wholly  un- 
deserved. 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Assembled  at  the  tea-table,  Mr. 
Castleton’s  anger  was  again  aroused 
by  Flora’s  appearance;  her  face  and 
hands  were  unwashed,  her  hair  di- 
sheveled, and  her  dress  in  a most  un- 
tidy condition,  her  shoe-strings  untied, 
and  the  little  maid  altogether  most 
unfit  to  sit  down  at  her  father’s  table. 

“Ma}'’,  just  look  at  your  sister;  I 
wonder  that  you  are  not  ashamed  of 
yourself ; she  is  not  fit  to  sit  down  in 
a decent  kitchen.  Send  her  out  of  the 
room  directly;”  and  poor  little  Flora 
was  sent  off  in  disgrace  to  the  cham- 
bermaid. 

“I  wish  that  you  would  attend  to 
my  shirts,  sister,”  said  Edw^ard ; “ when 
I went  to  my  bureau  to-day,  not  one 
had  buttons  on  the  wristbands,  and  I 
had  to  pin  them  to  keep  them  closed.” 

“ Do  you  ever  think.  May,  how  many 


MISTAKES. 


23 


you  have  to  step  over  to  get  after  your 
poor  children  ? I should  think  a great 
deal  more  of  your  piety,  if  I could  see 
it  make  you  more  faithful  at  home. 
Your  mother  was  one  of  the  best 
Christians  that  I ever  knew,  but  she 
never  neglected  any  of  her  home 
duties.” 

May  was  sorely  mortified.  A most 
uncomfortable  meal  was  eaten  that 
night,  for  the  poor  girl  felt  that  these 
reproaches  were  all  deserved;  tears 
mingled  Avith  her  food,  and  she  was 
truly  glad  when  they  arose  from  the 
table. 

Taking  an  early  opportunity.  May 
Avatched  Avhen  her  father  Avas  alone. 

“Forgive  me,  dear  papa,”  said  the 
young  girl;  “I  have  not  thought 
enough  about  my  home  duties;  but, 
by  Grod’s  help,  I Avill  try  to  do  better. 


24 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


I lost  my  mother  very  young,  and  I 
miss  my  kind  and  faithful  teacher.” 

This  always  touched  a tender  point 
in  Mr.  Castleton’s  heart,  and  he  re- 
plied, “ I know  all  about  that,  May, 
for  there  were  not  many  like  your 
mother ; it  was  a great  loss  to  a little 
girl.” 

“Shall  I play  for  you,  papa?”  said 
his  daughter,  and  opening  the  piano, 
she  entertained  him  for  an  hour  most 
patiently. 

His  good-humor  was  quite  restored, 
and  when  he  retired,  a kiss  of  recon- 
ciliation comforted  poor  May. 

Going  to  her  room  an  hour’s  careful 
self-communing  shed  floods  of  light 
upon  the  young  Christian’s  path,  and 
revealed  the  numerous  mistakes  which 
in  her  over- zealousness  she  had  been 
led  to  commit.  Carefully  placed  away 


MISTAKES. 


25 


among  her  treasures,  was  her  mother’s 
journal. 

May  had  often  read  its  pages,  and 
this  evening  especially,  she  felt  the 
need  of  such  guidance.  What  a record 
of  sweet  household  cares  where  all 
were  remembered  ! Her  husbana’s 
comforts,  her  children’s  Avants,  her 
servants’  Avelfare,  the  numberless  in- 
stances of  attention  to  all  those  little 
things  Avhich  serve  to  make  a quiet, 
happy  home. 

The  daily  communion  of  her  heart 
Avith  her  Saviour  AA^as  here  recorded, 
and  May  understood  fully  hoAv  all  her 
Avisdom,  and  strength,  and  love,  AA^ere 
learned  at  the  Master’s  blessed  feet. 
There  was  nothing  too  small  for  this 
faithful  AAufe  and  mother,  and  May  saAV 
hoAv  she  had  gained  such  influence 
over  all  her  household.  We  aauII  give 


3 


26 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


one  extract  which  drew  tears  from  her 
daughter’s  eyes. 

“ It  has  been  a trying  day,  but  I 
have  been  able  to  cast  all  my  cares 
upon  the  Lord,  and  he  haf5  strength- 
ened me.  Dear  husband  was  very 
impatient  to-day,  but  he  was  sutfering 
from  the  gout.  I tried  to  bear  with 
him,  gave  up  an  invitation  to  sister 
Mary’s,  and  stayed  at  home  to  cheer 
him. 

“ I sang  some  of  his  favorite  songs, 
and  was  rewarded  by  such  a loving 
kiss,  as  he  murmured,  ‘ Bless  you,, 
my  patient  wife ! how  shall  I ever  re- 
pay you  for  all  your  kindness?’  I 
felt  very  happy,  because  I had  done 
my  duty ; Giod  blessed  me  in  denying 
self  and  seeking  to  do  good.” 

Another  extract. 

“ My  Christian  patience  was  put  to 


MISTAKES. 


27 


the  utmost  trial  to-day ; nothing  that 
I did  could  please  my  husband — he 
was  so  harsh,  so  unkind,  that  my 
heart  was  almost  broken ; but  I was 
comforted  by  the  thought  of  my  Sa- 
viour’s trials. 

“ Spent  such  a happy  hour  in  com- 
munion with  my  Saviour ; bore  my 
dear  children  on  my  heart  before 
God. 

“ I see  much  to  cheer  me  in  my 
darling  May — many  marks  of  the 
Spirit’s  blessed  teaching.  May  she 
be  led  into  the  Saviour’s  precious  fold. 
If  I am  taken,  and  I have  many  warn- 
ings, may  she  be  spared  to  bless  her 
father.  Perhaps,  some  day  she  may 
read  these  records ; if  so,  may  she 
heed  her  mother’s  counsels. 

“ Remember,  my  darling  child,  that 
home  is  a woman’s  province.  In  its 


28 


MAY  CASTLETOX’S  MISSION. 


sweet  sanctity,  eveiy  Avord  you  utter, 
every  act  you  perform,  may  either 
leave  a blessing  or  a curse.  Be  con- 
tented, my  child,  out  of  the  sight  of 
the  busy  bustling  world  to  exercise 
your  loving  ministry — seek  not  great, 
but  holy,  hear^enly  things.  Do  not  be 
impatient,  my  daughter,  Avith  your 
father,  he  suffers  from  seA^ere  attacks 
of  sickness,  and  his  disease  is  a most 
trying  one. 

“ Be  very  particular  about  little 
things — see  that  his  room  is  always 
proAuded  Avith  everything  that  he 
needs.  I ahvays  make  it  my  care  that 
he  shall  not  have  to  ask  for  anything, 
it  irritates  and  Avorries  him.  Do  not 
reply  Avhen  he  is  impatient ; be  very 
tender  toAvards  your  father,  tender  as 
I was,  darling.  Do  not  neglect  your 
brother ; do  not  let  him  miss  his 


MISTAKES. 


29 


mother ; attend  to  his  clothes,  his 
books,  his  home-comforts,  even  his 
amusements.  May.  Be  watchful  of 
little  Flora ; see  that  she  always  ap- 
pears in  a neat  and  becoming  manner 
before  her  father ; be  careful  to  train 
her  in  all  those  little  proprieties  which 
he  values  so  highly. 

“ It  is  a serious  thing  to  bean  elder 
sister.  Your  character,  dear  May, 
will  have  a powerful  influence  at  home. 
I hope  that  you  will  often  read  these 
records ; do  not  forget  your  mother, 
May;  prepare  to  follow  me  to  that 
blessed  world  where  I am  waiting  for 
my  loved  ones.  I hope  to  meet  you 
all,  for  God  has  promised  to  answer 
prayer;  and  in  the  day  when  Jesus 
gathers  home  his  own,  I hope  to  be 
reunited  to  all  whom  I have  loved  on 
earth.” 


30 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


May  read  these  words  with  a deeply 
touched  and  tender  spirit.  New 
thoughts  were  stirring  in  the  young 
heart  which  will  hear  much  fruit. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TSUfKING  AND  ACTING. 

May  fell  asleep  thinking  over  the 
contents  of  her  mother’s  journal.  She 
recalled  the  sweet  pale  face,  the  serene 
and  holy  temper ; and  in  dreams  the 
mother’s  image  visited  her  daughter. 

By  early  dawn,  she  was  astir — her 
mother’s  picture  being  opposite  her 
bed,  the  tender,  thoughtful  eyes  seemed 
to  follow  her  with  unusual  power,  and 
she  could  almost  imagine  the  voice 
from  those  dear  lips  calling  to  her 
daughter  from  out  the  frame,  “ What 
are  your  plans  to-day,  my  darling? 
have  y ou  formed  any  resolutions  ? 

31 


32 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


will  you  listen  to  the  still,  small 
voice  ?” 

Rising  early,  May  seated  herself  by 
her  little  table,  with  her  open  Bible. 

What  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?” 
was  really  the  language  of  the  young 
heart  as  she  turned  over  its  sacred 
pages. 

Carefully  she  sought  out  every  pas- 
sage tliat  referred  to  the  duty  of  a 
child  or  sister,  and  with  a deeply 
humbled  spirit  prayed  that  these  holy 
precepts  might  be  written  with  a dia- 
mond pen  upon  her  heart,  and  shine 
forth  in  her  daily  life. 

Flora  slept  in  the  room  with  her 
sister,  and  as  soon  as  May  was  ready,  a 
cheerful  voice  was  rousing  the  sleeper. 

“ Come,  Flo,  don’t  you  hear  Ibe 
birds  singing  their  merry  songs  ?” 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


j and  May  stooped  over  lier  little  sister, 
! and  kissed  her  atFectionately, 

“ Please  don’t,  sister,  I am  so 
sleepy,”  said  the  little  girl. 

“You  must  rouse  up  dear,  for  papa 
wants  to  see  us  both  at  the  table  in 
time ; Ave  are  going  to  turn  over  a new 
leaf,  Flo,  so  let  us  begin  at  once.” 
Sitting  up  in  bed,  she  commenced 
rubbing  her  eyes,  and  in  a few  minutes 
was  out  of  bed,  cheerfully  making  her 
toilet. 

Sister  May  was  very  kind  in  help- 
ing the  child,  and  dressed  in  her  pretty 
pink  chintz,  and  neatly  ruffled  white 
apron,  with  her  cheeks  so  rosy,  and 
her  lovely  brown  hair  so  neatly  curled 
by  sister  May,  she  really  was  a darling 
little  sister,  and  smiled  most  loidngly 
when  receiidng  May’s  ivarm  kiss. 

“ How  nice  this  is,  sister !”  said  the 


34 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


child,  “ if  you  will  only  do  this  every 
day,  I shall  always  he  ready,  and  papa 
Avill  not  have  to  scold  any  more  about 
my  untidy  dress  and  late  hours.” 

“ This  is  one  of  the  new  leaves  we 
are  turning  over,  Flo,”  was  the  answer, 
and  taking  the  child’s  hand,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  breakfast-room. 

Papa  was  not  quite  ready,  and  Flora 
ran  out  to  the  garden  to  gather  a sweet 
bouquet  to  place  beside  his  plate.  Mr. 
Castleton  was  just  entering  the  room, 
as  Flora  stej^ped  in  from  the  window 
opening  down  to  the  floor. 

••  Here  papa,  is  your  favorite  flower,” 
and  she  handed  some  fragrant  hya- 
cinths. 

“ This  is  pleasant,  indeed,”  said  the 
father,  as  he  looked  upon  his  two 
daughters  so  fresh  and  smiling. 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


35 


“ This  is  your  work,  May,  is  it  not?” 
asked  Mr.  Castleton. 

“Yes,  papa,  I have  been  thinking, 
oh  ! so  much,  since  yesterday,  and  now 
I am  ready  to  act ; I don’t  think  that 
you  will  have  to  complain  of  your 
daughter  soon  again.” 

After  breakfast.  May  called  her  lit- 
tle sister  to  her  room,  and  examined 
her  progress  in  her  daily  studies — she 
was  terribly  mortified  at  the  child’s 
ignorance  of  the  common  things,  which 
every  one  of  her  age  should  be  well 
acquainted  with.  Flora  attended  a 
school  in  the  neighborhood,  for  small 
children,  but  hitherto,  had  been  al- 
lowed to  go  and  come  Avithout  any 
home  supervision  whatever. 

“ What  does  Miss  Maria  say  about 
your  lessons.  Flora?”  asked  her  sister. 
The  child  hung  her  head. 


36 


BIAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“She  says  that  I am  very  idle;  even 
little  Bessie  Gray,  who  is  only  seven 
years  old,  knows  more  than  I do.” 

“ There  must  be  another  new  leaf,” 
continued  the  sister ; “ bring  your 
books  to  mo  every  day.  Flora,  and  I 
will  see  that  Miss  Maria  is  annoyed 
no  more  in  this  way.” 

The  new  ways  excited  no  little  fric- 
tion, for  it  was  not  a very  easy  task  to 
overcome  the  idle  habits  of  careless 
little  Flo ; but  perseverance  accom- 
plishes wonders,  so  the  child  found 
much  to  her  satisfaction,  when  Miss 
]\[aria  praised  her  well-recited  lessons. 

Soon  after  breakfast.  May  bent  her 
steps  to  the  house-keeper’s  room. 

“ Good  morning,  Mrs.  Lisle,”  said 
the  young  lady,  as  she  seated  herself 
on  the  dark,  chintz-covered  sofa. 

“ I am  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear ; it 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


37 


has  been  a long  time  since  you  have 
paid  me  a visit.” 

“ That  is  all  true,  Mrs.  Lisle,  but  I 
have  come  to-day  to  talk  about 
mamma.  You  know  that  I was  seven- 
teen last  week,  and  I think  that  it  is 
time  that  I should  try  to  follow  dear 
mamma’s  ways — she  was  such  a good 
house-keeper,  won’t  you  tell  me  some- 
thing of  her  plans  ?” 

The  good  woman  looked  up  sur- 
prised, for  it  was  such  a rare  thing  to 
see  May  at  all  interested  in  these 
matters. 

“ It  would  be  a blessed  thing  if  you 
should  ever  be  like  that  sweet  saint, 
Miss  May.” 

“ How  did  she  regulate  affairs  ? 
Won’t  you  tell  me  some  of  her  rules, 
Mrs.  Lisle?” 

“ She  was  a very  early  riser,  my 

4 


38 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


dear ; her  first  hour  was  always  spent 
at  her  devotions ; after  breakfast,  she 
arranged  the  affairs  of  the  da}^ — she 
had  a particular  day  for  everything ; 
she  never  allowed  any  clothing  to  go 
into  the  wash,  without  first  being 
mended.  It  v/as  her  custom  to  ar- 
range her  husband  and  children’s 
bureau  drawers,  keeping  everything 
in  perfect  order.  In  the  spring  and 
fall,  she  examined  the  whole  family 
wardrobe ; whatever  was  too  much 
worn  for  repairing,  was  put  aside,  for 
some  families  who  depended  upon  the 
‘ Elms  ’ almost  entirely  for  their  cloth- 
ing.” 

“ She  must  have  been  very  busy, 
Mrs.  Lisle,”  replied  May,  with  a 
thoughtful  face. 

“ Yes,  my  dear,  she  wasted  no  time, 
but  she  was  so  systematic  and  orderly. 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


39 


that  she  was  always  ready  to  receive 
your  father,  and  generally  rode  out 
with  him  before  tea — then  she  had  a 
day  when  her  poor  families  came  to 
receive  their  allowance  of  groceries  or 
clothing,  and  though  so  much  was 
done,  it  was  all  in  such  a quiet,  gentle 
way,  that  one  could  scarcely  believe 
how  much  she  accomplished.” 

“ I want  to  follow  mamma’s  ways, 
Mrs.  Lisle ; I don’t  want  to  meddle 
with  your  affairs,  but  I am  sure  that 
I can  do  something  to  aid  you  ; can’t 
I be  of  some  use  in  my  father’s 
house  ?” 

“You  could  take  charge  of  your 
father’s,  brother’s,  and  sister’s  clothes, 
I think ; could  wash  the  breakfast 
things,  look  after  the  silver,  learn  the 
art  of  preserving  and  pickling,  and 
see  especially  that  Mr.  Castleton’s  own 


40 


MAT  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


room  is  in  perfect  order — your  mamma 
was  so  particular  about  that.  I am 
sure,  Miss  May,  that  it  would  please 
your  father  so  much.” 

“ Thank  you,  Mrs.  Lisle,”  said  May, 
and  taking  up  her  mamma’s  little 
basket,  she  furnished  herself  with  the 
needful  keys,  and  commenced  at  once 
her  new  vocation. 

Next  morning,  papa  watched  his 
daughter  with  an  earnest  look,  as  plac- 
ing her  basket  on  the  table,  she  took 
her  seat  at  the  waiter,  and  commenced 
the  business  of  serving  the  family. 

Papa  could  not  take  his  eyes  off  his 
daughter,  as  clad  in  her  neat  white 
apron,  she  carefully  washed  the  break- 
fast things,  counted  the  silver,  and  set 
all  away  in  the  pantry — then  locking 
the  door,  she  deposited  her  bunch  of 
keys  in  her  basket,  and  was  leaving 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


41 


the  room  when  her  father  called 
her. 

“ Come  here,  May.  Do  you  know, 
my  child,  how  much  you  remind  me 
of  your  mother  ? This  Avas  her  con- 
stant custom ; it  is  a pleasant  sight  to 
see  you  at  all  like  her.” 

“ That  is  what  I am  trying  to  be, 
papa ; Mrs.  Lisle  has  told  me  all  about 
her  ways,  and  I am  trying  to  follow 
her.” 

Mr.  Castleton  kissed  his  daughter. 

“ That  is  a good  child ; your  mother 
was  an  angel.  May,  much  too  good  for 
me.” 

Next,  a visit  to  Flora’s  bureau 
caused  no  little  mortification — stock- 
ings not  darned,  strings  and  buttons 
otf  in  every  direction ; scarcely  a gar- 
ment was  in  perfect  order,  and  the 
confusion  was  terrible. 

4 « 


42 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


J^’ot  a single  drawer  was  as  it  should 
be.  “ Here  is  something  to  do,”  said 
May,  as  she  looked  about  her  almost 
in  despair.  Her  brother’s  was  not 
much  better — papa’s  alone  was  in  good 
order,  for  Mrs.  Lisle  had  carefully  at- 
tended to  this  department.  Thought 
was  very  busy  in  May’s  brain,  as  she 
remembered  how  many  days  she  had 
spent  among  the  neighboring  poor, 

were  so  sorely 

neglected. 

But  ]May  had  really  set  about  the 
work  of  reformation.  Furnishing  her- 
self with  needles,  cotton,  and  other 
working  utensils,  she  piled  a large 
basket  with  clothes,  and  proceeded  to 
the  house-keeper’s  room  with  her  bur- 
den of  work.  Mrs.  Lisle  smiled  at 
poor  May’s  look  of  bewilderment,  as 
she  said, 


while  her  own  family 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


43 


“What  is  all  this,  my  dear?  you 
have  enough  work  there  for  a week.” 
“ It  is  not  the  half  of  what  I have 
to  do,”  replied  May,  with  a discour- 
aged look. 

“Let  me  see,”  said  the  good  woman, 
as  she  lifted  up  the  garments.  “ Oh ! 
it  is  not  quite  so  bad — a button  or  two 
on  one,  a string  on  another,  but  these 
new  collars  on  the  shirts  will  be  the 
most  troublesome.” 

“ I am  determined,  Mrs.  Lisle,  to 
do  them  all ; I know  that  I shall  have 
two  weeks  of  really  hard  work,  but  it 
won’t  be  so  again.  I’ll  take  mamma’s 
plan,  and  attend  to  the  mending 
weekly.” 

Down  she  seated  herself,  and  with  a 
cheerful  spirit  commenced  her  work ; 
all  the  morning  she  sewed  industri- 
ously, but  according  to  her  promise. 


44 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


she  must  find  two  hours  daily  for 
practice,  and  as  soon  as  dinner  was 
over,  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano. 

She  had  not  been  long  at  the  in- 
strument, when  she  heard  the  sound 
of  carriage  wheels,  which  stopped  at 
the  door. 

In  a minute,  the  bright  face  of  Cou- 
sin Henry  appeared  at  the  window ; 
throwing  up  the  sash,  he  entered. 

“ Come,  May,  we  are  going  to  have 
a splendid  ride  to  the  Falls;  Ellen  is 
out  in  the  carriage.  Get  on  your 
things  in  a hurry ; we  cannot  wait  a 
minute.” 

May’s  countenance  fell. 

“ I cannot  go,  Henry.  I have  been 
so  very  busy  all  the  morning,  and  I 
promised  papa  that  I would  practice 
two  hours  daily ; if  I go  with  you,  I 
shall  break  my  promise.” 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


45 


“ J^'onsense,  May ! Can’t  you  make 
it  up  to  morrow  ?” 

“ No,  Cousin  Henry ; each  day 
brings  its  duties.  I shall  not  be  so 
dreadfully  hurried  after  a few  weeks, 
but  it  is  all  my  own  fault  just  now. 
You  must  excuse  me  this  time.” 

“ I don’t  believe  you  want  to  go, 
May ; it  is  just  some  of  your  miserable 
puritanical  notions  about  your  duty, 
that  have  got  hold  of  you.  You  are 
not  at  all  the  girl  that  you  used  to  be. 
Just  come,  May,  only  this  once.” 
May’s  eyes  filled  with  tears,  for  the 
close  work  of  the  morning  had  made 
her  a little  nervous,  and  she  really  did 
so  want  to  go  with  her  cousins  ; it  was 
such  a disappointment,  and  poor  May 
leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and 
sobbed  outright. 

“ Forgive  me.  May,  this  time,”  said 


46  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

her  impetuous  cousin,  “you  are  the 
best  little  thing  in  all  the  wide  world; 
but  it  is  just  your  goodness  that  pro- 
vokes me  so,  it  is  always  in  the  way 
of  some  of  our  pleasures,” 

May  smiled  sweetly  on  her  cousin  as 
she  replied,  “ The  very  first  ride  I 
take  shall  be  with  you;  I’ll  do  double 
work  rather  than  disappoint  you, 
Henry,  but  you  must  go  this  time 
without  me.” 

“ I shall  not  have  one  bit  of  pleas- 
ure, for  I had  set  my  heart  on  taking 
you  with  us  to  meet  the  Englishes, 
and  staying  to  supper;  a ride  home 
by  moonlight  would  have  been  so  de- 
lightful, But  good-bye.  May,  I’ll  for- 
give you  this  time.” 

And  the  carriage  drove  away  with 
her  lively  cousins.  We  must  excuse 
May  if  she  shed  some  very  natural 


THINKING  AND  ACTING. 


47 


tears.  But  a few  minutes’  reflection 
satisfied  her  that  she  was  right,  and 
she  felt  very  happy  when,  at  the  tea- 
table,  she  could  tell  her  father  how  faith- 
fully she  had  redeemed  her  promise. 

Ere  retiring  that  night,  she  took  for 
her  study  the  beautiful  chapter*  which 
contains  those  holy  traits  of  Christian 
love,  or  “ charity.” 

The  first  attracted  her  attention,  and 
upon  it  she  dwelt  especially. 

“ Charity  sufihreth  long  and  is 
kind.” 

Placing  it  by  the  side  of  kindred 
passages,  it  really  seemed  to  breathe 
of  heaven. 

“Be  ye  kind  one  toward  another, 
tender-hearted,  forgiving  one  another.” 

“ Bear  ye  one  another’s  burdens, 
and  so  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ.” 


* 1 Corinthians,  xiii. 


48 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


May  saw  its  beauty,  but  she  also 
saw  the  law  of  selfishness  in  her  mem- 
bers warring  against  this  holy,  heav- 
OXily  grace. 

“ How  shall  I ever  learn  such  sweet 
forbearance  ?”  whispered  May. 

“ Come,  learn  of  me,  for  I am  meek 
and  lowly  in  heart,”  and  bowed  at 
Jesus’  feet,  the  young  disciple  prayed, 
oh!  how  earnestly,  for  the  long-suf- 
fering tenderness  of  the  loving  Sa- 
viour. 

Perhaps  she  did  not  realize  how 
much  of  that  holy  temper  had  ruled 
her  action  throughout  the  day.  She 
felt  her  short-comings,  but  Jesus  saw 
the  love  that  prompted  the  self-denial 
of  the  day. 

Sweet  was  her  rest  that  night,  and 
blessed  the  awakening  on  the  morning 
of  another  day. 


CHAPTER  IV, 

PATIENCE  TRIED. 

Up  betimes,  the  birds  were  not  more 
joyful  than  May.  Her  Bible  reading 
was  refreshing,  and  her  communion 
with  her  Saviour  sweet  and  holy. 
With  a spirit  full  of  the  love  of  her 
Master,  and  gushing  out  towards  all 
his  creatures,  she  prepared  for  her 
daily  duties,  and  anxious  to  please 
papa  especially,  she  hurried  into  the 
kitchen. 

“ Betty,  will  you  let  me  make  some 
^chocolate  this  morning?  Papa  is  so 
fond  of  it,  and  I think  I can  make  it 
just  to  suit  him.” 

6 


49 


50  MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 

“ Certainly,  Miss  May,  you’re  wel- 
come at  any  time  to  come  here,  I’m 
always  glad  to  see  your  bright  face.” 

■May  set  to  work,  and  Betty  watched 
the  performance;  when  finished,  the 
good-natured  cook  jironounced  it  just 
the  thing,  and  May  was  very  proud 
when  she  saw  the  little  silver  coffee- 
pot filled  with  smoking  chocolate,  and 
the  delicate  toast  jirepared  by  her  own 
hands,  carried  into  the  breakfast  room. 

“ God  bless  her  dear  heart !”  said 
the  old  woman,  “ she’s  going  to  he  just 
like  her  dear  mother;  so  thoughtful 
for  such  a young  thing.  But  I do  get 
so  mad  at  her  cross  father,  when  she 
is  doing  her  very  best,  to  get  so  few 
kind  words.” 

“ Yes,  so  do  I,”  said  the  waiter-girl ; 
“ but  she’s  always  so  good  and  pa- 
tient, I never  hear  her  say  one  im- 


PATIENCE  TRIED. 


61 


patient  word  back,  though  he  is  just 
like  an  old  bear,  when  he’s  sick.” 

“ She’s  a dear  child,  kind  to  every- 
body,” was  the  answer  of  old  Betty. 
“When  I have  the  rheumatism  she 
waits  upon  me  iust  as  if  I was  a 
lady.” 

May  entered  the  breakfast  room 
with  a bright  cheerful  face,  holding 
little  Flora’s  hand.  But  clouds  rested 
upon  her  father’s  face. 

“ Good  morning,  dear  papa !”  was 
the  smiling  salutation,  “ how  are  you 
to-day  ?” 

“You  need  not  ask.  May ; can’t  you 
see  that  I have  not  slept  a wink  the 
whole  night?” 

“ I am  very  sorry ; was  your  foot 
troublesome  ?” 

“Troublesome!  I have  been  tor- 


52 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


merited  all  night,  and  to-day  I am  a.s 
cross  as  a bear.” 

Little  Flora  came  round  to  give  her 
morning  kiss. 

“ This  is  something  new,”  growled 
papa ; “ take  care  of  my  foot,  child,” 
and  most  ungraciously  Mr.  Castleton 
received  the  sweet  caress. 

A lump  of  lead  sank  down  into 
May’s  heart.  Tears  would  come  as 
she  seated  herself  at  the  table ; but 
knowing  her  father’s  hatred  of  these 
exhibitions,  she  hastily  wiped  them 
away,  and  tried  to  smile  as  cheerfully 
as  she  could. 

“ Papa,  I have  something  here  that 
will  please  you,  I know ; it  is  very 
nice  chocolate  and  toast,  and  I made 
it  all  myself,”  and  May  looked  quite 
proudly  upon  the  silver  pot  of  smok- 


PATIENCE  TRIED. 


53 


ing  chocolate,  and  the  plate  of  delicate 
cream  toast. 

Mr.  Castleton  did  not  reply,  but  as 
soon  as  he  tasted  the  beverage  which 
was  really  well  made,  he  pushed  the 
cup  hastily  away,  saying, 

“ It  is  as  thick  as  mush.  May ; I 
can’t  drink  such  stutf — you  know  that 
I don’t  like  it  made  so  thick.” 

“ Betty  told  me  that  it  was  just 
right,  papa ; I am  so  sorry  that  it  does 
not  please  you,  I tried  so  hard,”  and 
May,  no  longer  able  to  control  her 
feelings,  burst  into  tears. 

“What  are  you  crying  about?”  im- 
patiently asked  her  father.  “ Can’t  I 
say  a word  at  my  own  table,  but  I 
must  be  annoyed  by  these  babyish 
tears  ?” 

“ Excuse  me,  papa,  I could  not  help 
it;  I was  so — so  disappointed.” 


54  MAf  castleton’s  mission. 

And  the  long-suffering,  patient  child 
hastily  wiped  away  her  tears,  and 
tried  to  smile. 

“I  know,  papa,  that  your  foot  must 
make  you  feel  impatient,  and  I will 
try  to  do  better  another  time.” 

After  a most  uncomfortable  break- 
fast, May  asked  to  see  her  father’s 
foot;  it  was  very  much  swollen  and 
inflamed,  and  she  ordered  John  to  go 
at  once  for  the  doctor,  but  with  orders 
not  to  tell  her  father  that  she  had 
sent. 

Going  with  him  to  the  library,  she 
arranged  his  easy-chair,  placed  his  foot 
upon  a soft  cushion  on  another  chair, 
and  then  seated  herself  to  read  the 
morning  paper,  a general  custom  when 
papa  was  not  well. 

And  this  was  all  done  with  such  a 
sweet,  loving  manner,  that  conscience 


PATIENCE  TRIED. 


55 


did  cause  Mr.  Castleton  to  soften  the 
tones  of  his  voice,  when  addressing 
her. 

As  she  moved  around  the  room  so 
quietly,  placing  everything  in  order, 
her  father’s  eyes  followed  her  some- 
what kindly,  for  every  motion  brought 
back  the  lost  mother  of  the  household ; 
and  he  sighed  heavily  at  the  recollec- 
tion. 

The  present  attack  was  unusually 
severe,  and  all  the  patience  of  the 
young  Christian  was  tried  to  the  utter- 
most, but  the  remembrance  of  the 
morning  smiles  of  her  Redeemer 
cheered  May  Castleton;  and  though 
she  could  not  be  joyful,  she  was  serene 
and  patient. 

Flora  was  a bright,  little  thing,  very 
fond  of  her  pet-lamb,  and  her  dog  Bi- 
jou; the  latter  was  a true  friend  to 


66 


MAT  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


the  child,  and  was  always  by  her 
side.  Many  a merry  gambol  did 
the  two  have  out  upon  the  lawn, 
down  the  avenue,  and  under  the  green 
trees, 

“ Can’t  you  stoj)  that  child.  May  ?” 
said  her  father,  “her  laughing  sets  me 
crazy  ; she  has  been  racing  under  my 
window  with  her  dog,  for  at  least  one 
hour  I am  sure.” 

“ I thought  you  liked  to  see  us  lively, 
papa,”  was  the  answer,  “you  know 
yesterday,  you  said,  that  I was  such  a 
mope.” 

“ Yes,  I know  I did,  for  you  wear 
such  a long  face,  that  it  gives  me  the 
horrors  ; but  I suppose  that  is  the  way 
of  the  saints.” 

“ I’ll  try  to  be  cheerful,  papa,  if  1 
can,  if  only  to  please  you. 

“ That  is  just  the  same  as  saying 


PATIENCE  TRIED. 


57 


that  I am  hard  to  please ; I don’t  con- 
sider that  a very  respectful  way  to 
speak  to  your  father.” 

The  poor  tortured  girl  was  quiet, 
and  hearing  Flora’s  merry  peals 
stepped  out  to  stop  the  noise. 

“ Take  your  dog  down  the  avenue, 
dear,”  said  the  sister ; “it  disturbs 
papa,  and  after  a little  while  come  in ; 
it  is  nearly  time  for  your  lessons.” 

In  the  afternoon,  her  cousins  came 
to  pay  a visit.  Ellen  was  a lively, 
animated  being,  and  had  some  very 
amusing  incidents  to  relate  to  May. 
There  was  therefore  a merry  party  in 
the  parlor,  and  the  peals  of  laughter 
reached  Mr.  Castleton’s  room.  Ellen 
rattled  off  some  lively  music,  and 
Henry  joined  in  the  mirth. 

Presently  the  bell  in  the  library  was 


58 


MAY  CASTLETON  S MISSION. 


hastily  rung,  and  May  hastened  out 
to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

“ Can’t  you  stop  that  clatter,  May  ? 
I was  just  trying  to  get  a nap.  The 
eternal  noise  of  those  rattle-hrained 
things  distracts  me  ; I wish,  if  they 
can’t  be  more  quiet,  that  they  would 
stay  at  home.” 

“ I’ll  tell  them,  papa ; but  I don’t 
think  that  they  meant  to  disturb  you ; 
they  are  only  thoughtless.” 

“ I don’t  blame  them,  I blame  you, 
May ; you  know  how  I have  been 
suffering, . and  that  I cannot  bear  a 
noise;  you  should  have  kept  them 
quiet.” 

“ Well,  May ! what’s  the  matter  ?” 
said  Henry,  “ is  Uncle  Bruno  in  the 
dumps  to-day  ?” 

“ Don’t  speak  so,  Henry,  of  my  fa- 
ther ; he  has  had  a very  severe  attack 


PATIENCE  TRIED. 


59 


of  gout,  and  begs  us  to  be  quiet ; he 
cannot  bear  a noise  when  he  is  sick.” 

“You  must  have  a sweet  time  here, 
May,  shut  up  with  such  a cross  old 
bear ; you  have  no  recreation,  nothing 
that  young  people  ought  to  have.” 

“ Hush,  Henry,”  said  May,  as  she 
playfully  placed  her  hand  upon  his 
mouth.  “ God  sends  our  trials,  and 
if  my  father  is  sick,  it  is  right  that 
his  daughter  should  be  his  nurse ; it 
is  God’s  will  just  now  that  I should 
be  somewhat  shut  up,  and  if  I am 
in  the  way  of  duty,  I must  be  happy 
you  know.” 

“You  need  not  want  to  make  me 
believe  that  you  can  be  happy,  de- 
prived as  you  are  of  so  many  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  young,  and  compelled 
to  wait  upon  a man  who  is  satisfied 
with  nothing.” 


60 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ I admit  that  I am  not  always  joy- 
ful, but  I can  be  patient,  long-suffer- 
ing, peaceful,  Henry  ; and  that  is  one 
kind  of  happiness.” 

Henry  turned  an  affectionate  glance 
towards  his  young  cousin  as  he  said, 

“ May,  you  are  just  akin  to  the 
angels ; I don’t  like  it  at  all,  for  I am 
really  afraid  that  you’ll  take  wings 
some  day,  and  leave  us  all  behind.” 

“ Don’t  be  foolish,  Henry.  I am  in 
no  great  danger,  on  that  score ; if  you 
knew  how  impatient  I feel  sometimes 
— how  rebellious  and  angry  at  heart 
when  papa  is  unreasonable,  you  would 
not  call  me  such  silly  names,  I am 
sure.” 

“ Xow,  do  you  know,  IMay,  that  I 
am  not  going  home  this  afternoon 
without  taking  you  out  to  ride.  I am 
not  going  to  put  up  with  those  pale 


PATIENCE  TRIED, 


61 


cheeks  and  languid  eyes.  J ust  go  get 
your  hat  and  mantle  at  once,” 

“I  can’t,  indeed,  Henry;  I can’t 
leave  papa.” 

“ I’ll  settle  that.  May,”  and  away 
dashed  Henry  into  the  library. 

“ Can’t  we  take  May  with  us,  uncle, 
we  will  just  take  a short  ride?  she 
looks  so  pale,  and  I think  it  will  do 
her  good.” 

“ She  can  go  if  she  pleases,  for  I 
want  to  take  a good  nap,  and  if  you’ll 
take  Flora,  too,  the  house  will  be 
quiet.” 

“ I am  conqueror.  May,”  said  her 
cousin ; “ Flo  must  go  too,  for  uncle 
fortunately  wants  a quiet  house,  so 
get  your  duds,  both  of  you.” 

In  a few  minutes  the  party  were  off 
to  the  falls,  their  favorite  ride,  about 
five  miles  distant. 


62 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


May  loved  the  country,  and  a ride 
through  the  romantic  region  in  the 
open  carriage  was  a great  treat. 

Arrived  at  the  falls,  they  rambled 
around  among  the  rocks  and  hills,  ex- 
ploring every  familiar  spot,  gathering 
wild  flowers,  and  chatting  pleasantly 
as  young  people  delight  to  do,  in  the 
happy  freedom  of  perfect  confidence. 

“ Now,  May,  have  we  not  had  a 
pleasant  time?”  said  Henry,  as  he 
helped  her  out  of  the  carriage. 

“ Yes,  indeed ; I am  much  indebted 
to  you  for  this  delightful  afternoon, 
but  I must  hurry  in,  and  see  papa.” 

“ Good-bye,  I shall  come  again  and 
steal  you  off ; I have  brought  back  the 
roses  already  to  your  pale  cheeks.” 
May  hastened  to  her  father’s  side ; 
he  had  just  awakened. 

“Well!  you’ve  got  back,  child,  I 


PATIENCE  TRIED. 


63 


hope  that  those  young  rattle-caps 
won’t  come  in  a hurry  again : their 
noise  was  distracting.” 

“ Would  you  not  like  to  go  into  the 
parlor  this  evening,  papa?  you  have 
been  confined  so  long  to  the  library,” 
and  May  led  her  father  quietly  along 
to  his  accustomed  place  on  the  lounge. 

“ Shall  I play  for  you,  papa?”  asked 
the  daughter,  and  May  commenced 
one  of  her  most  soothing  airs. 

“ Play  something  more  lively,  child; 
that  sounds  like  a funeral  hymn,”  and 
May  patiently  complied,  singing  one 
of  her  most  brilliant  songs. 

“ Stop  that,  May,  there’s  no  soul  in 
such  music  as  that;  give  me  something 
grand.” 

Again  May  changed  her  music. 

“ Does  that  please  you,  papa?”  she 
asked,  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles. 


64 


MAT  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ That  is  better ; but  I suppose  I am 
not  in  tune  myself,  or  else  I would 
enjoy  music  more.” 

And  so  the  day  closed.  May  had 
been  a long-suffering,  dutiful,  loving 
child  all  day,  and  she  was  a tranquil, 
happy  Christian  in  her  evening  devo- 
tions, and  during  the  long  hours  of 
the  silent  night. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MAT'S  cozrsiys. 

The  “ Cedars  ” was  the  family  res- 
idence of  the  Hazletons,  not  very  far 
from  the  “ Elms.”  The  two  younger 
members  of  the  household  had  always 
been  on  the  most  intimate  terms  with 
their  uncle’s  family,  for  the  mothers 
of  both  were  sisters.  Harry,  the  elder, 
was  about  twenty  years  of  age,  a fine, 
noble-spirited  youth,  but  very  impet- 
uous, thinking  his  cousin  May  above 
common  mortals,  rather  better  in  fact 
than  was  desirable,  and  often  indignant 
at  the  treatment  she  received  at  the 

hands  of  her  father 
6 ■* 


65 


66 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Ellen,  aged  about  eighteen,  was  a 
bright,  pleasant  girl,  with  that  kind 
of  agreeable  prettiness  which  leaves 
no  particular  impression,  good-hu- 
mored, jiassably  intelligent.  She  was 
like  the  majority  of  young  persons, 
with  no  very  marked  character  of 
either  good  or  evil ; she  resembled  her 
brother  in  one  particular  only,  and 
that  was  in  her  warm  attachment  to 
her  young  cousin,  May  Castleton. 

They  both  admired  May,  and  were 
exceedingly  proud  of  their  relative, 
and  with  good  reason,  for  May  was 
really  very  lovely,  with  her  dark 
hazel  eyes,  her  rich  brown  hair,  deli- 
cate, ever-changing  complexion,  and  a 
mouth  that  fully  expressed  the  sweet 
sensitiveness  of  her  character.  A light, 
airy  form,  and  a voice  remarkable  for 
its  melody  and  volume  completed  the 


may’s  cousins. 


67 


charms  of  the  young  girl ; but  not  the 
least  was  her  simplicity  and  evident 
unconsciousness  of  her  attractions. 

The  visits  of  the  cousins  were  fre- 
quent, and  although  sometimes  coldly, 
and  at  others  rudely  received,  they 
were  not  to  be  discouraged  in  their 
intimacy  with  dear  May. 

Uncle  Castleton  Avas  once  more  able 
to  take  his  customary  exercise,  and  to 
attend  as  usual  to  the  business  of  his 
farm,  and  very  soon  the  Hazletons 
were  again  guests  at  the  “ Elms.”  This 
time,  they  came  to  spend  the  day. 
Mr.  Castleton  Avas  annoyed  because  he 
had  some  Avriting  that  he  had  wished 
May  to  do  for  him,  and  now  it  must 
be  postponed  for  these  young  “ rattle- 
caps.” 

Ilorse-back  rides  in  the  morning, 
music  in  the  afternoon,  and  teazing 


68 


MAT  CASTLETON  S MISSION. 


raillery  all  clay  long,  kept  tlie  house 
astir  whenever  Henry  Hazleton  was  a 
visitor  at  the  “ Elms.”  ' Consequently, 
the  temper  of  the  master  was  in  no 
very  sweet  tune,  and  May  was  con- 
stantly in  fear  of  an  outbreak. 

“ Where  have  you  been  ?”  said  her 
father,  as  she  was  dismounting  from 
her  horse ; “ you  have  been  riding  too 
hard.  May,  your  pony  is  covered  with 
foam.  If  you  abuse  her  so,  she  will 
be  good  for  nothing.” 

“We  have  been  to  the  falls,  papa, 
I did  not  know  that  we  had  ridden 
so  fast.  It  is  a very  hot  day,  but  I 
would  not  hurt  Fanny  for  the  world.” 
“ Tell  Jim  to  take  good  care  of 
her,  and  don’t  take  her  out  again  to- 
day.” 

While  the  young  girls  were  up-stairs, 


may’s  cousins. 


69 


Mr.  Castleton  embraced  the  opportu- 
nity to  lecture  his  nephew. 

“ How  long  do  you  expect,  sir,  to 
spend  your  time  in  idleness  ? All  I 
hear  of  you  is  that  you  are  either 
gunning,  fishing,  riding,  or  boating ; I 
think  it  is  time  for  a youth  of  twenty 
to  be  thinking  of  something  else.” 

Henry  fired  up.  “ You  have  been 
misinformed,  sir ; this  is  a season  of 
vacation,  but  I have  regular  hours  for 
study  daily.  It  is  true,  that  I spend 
more  time  in  recreation,  but  the  last 
was  a year  of  severe  study.  You  may 
ask  Professor  Hunt  what  was  my 
standing  at  college  during  the  past 
year.” 

“ I am  glad  to  see  your  spirit,  boy  ; 
but  you  seem  such  a frolicsome  fel- 
low, that  I could  scarcely  believe  that 


70 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


you  could  ever  tame  your  wild  spirits 
down  to  severe  application.” 

“ I have  a great  deal  of  persever- 
ance, Uncle  Castleton,  and  what  I un- 
dertake, I generally  succeed  in  per- 
forming ; I don’t  think  that  you  will 
be  ashamed  of  me  when  I reach  the 
bar.” 

A very  nice  dinner  was  set  before 
the  young  guests,  and  May  looked 
smiling  as  she  served  out  the  dessert. 

“ Will  you  take  some  of  my  blanc- 
mange, papa?”  said  the  young  girl; 
“it  is  my  first  attempt,  and  so  is  the 
jelly,  but  Betty  says  that  it  is  very 
good.” 

“ It  will  pass  in  a crowd.  May.  I 
don’t  think  much  of  it,”  and  Henry’s 
ire  was  aroused  as  he  saw  the  big  tears 
trembling  in  his  cousin’s  eyes. 

“ It  is  capital.  May,”  said  the  youth, 


may’s  cousins. 


71 


flashing  an  angry  look  at  his  uncle ; I 
wish  that  Ellen  could  make  some  half 
as  good ; I think,  uncle,  that  you  • 
might  give  May  some  credit  for  what 
she  does.” 

“ Boys  like  you  had  better  mind 
their  own  business,  sir ; I can  regulate 
my  own  family  without  your  help.” 

“Don’t  speak  so,  Henry,”  said  May, 
with  an  imploring  look,  “ papa  don’t 
j mean  anything.” 

I Henry  tapped  his  boot  angrily  un- 
der the  table,  and  bit  his  lips  in  his 
attempts  to  restrain  his  temper. 

“ Where  is  my  wine.  May  ?”  asked 
her  father,  “ I don’t  see  any  on  the 
table.” 

“I  told  Hannah  not  to  put  it  there, 
papa,  for  I heard  Dr.  Jones  tell  you 
the  other  day  not  to  indulge  in  drink- 
ing wine  after  an  attack  of  the  gout.” 


72 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Mr.  Castleton  flared  up.  “ How 
dare  you  give  sucli  orders  ? I am  ca- 
pable of  taking  care  of  myself.  If  I 
choose  to  drink  wine,  I’ll  take  as  much 
as  I please  without  the  doctor’s  leave, 
or  yours  either,  and  let  me  tell  you, 
miss,  that  you  have  a deal  of  imper- 
tinence to  give  such  orders.” 

Poor  May ! she  thought  that  she 
v/as  doing  right,  and  now  what  a ter- 
rible explosion ! 

“Excuse  me,  papa;  it  was  well- 
meant  at  least ; I saw  how  much  you 
suffered,  and  I did  not  suppose  that 
you  would  want  any  wine.” 

“ Keep  your  opinions  to  yourself. 
When  I give  up  my  wine,  I will  give 
the  orders  myself;  do  you  hear, 
May  ?” 

“ Yes,  papa,  I hear,  and  will  try  to 
attend  to  your  commands;”  and  May’s 


MA-S’S  COUSINS. 


73 


eyes  cast  an  imploring  glance  towards 
her  father. 

But  he  did  not  notice  the  look,  and 
vouchsafed  no  answer. 

“ Brute !”  murmured  Henry,  be- 
tween his  teeth,  which,  fortunately, 
none  heard  but  May ; for  glancing 
towards  her  cousin,  her  look  sealed  his 
lips  for  the  rest  of  the  meal. 

And  thus  the  long-suffering  patience 
of  gentle  May  Castleton  was  daily 
perfected  in  the  life  of  the  young 
Christian. 

She  had  prayed  for  the  “ charity 
which  suffereth  long  and  is  kind,”  and 
the  prayer  was  answered,  while  the 
school  for  its  silent,  powerful  ministry 
was  in  the  sanctuary  of  home. 

It  will  not  be  in  vain,  for  seeds  of 
love  bring  forth  “ fruits  of  righteous- 
ness.” 
r 


74 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


After  tea,  the  cousins  were  walking 
in  the  piazza,  while  Edward  and  Flora 
were  engaged  in  a romp  down  the 
avenue, 

“ How  can  you  put  up  with  uncle’s 
unkindness.  May?”  inquired  Henry. 

“ Is  he  not  my  hither,  Henry  ? and 
tlien  you  do  not  know  how  much  he 
suffers  from  his  disease ; I have  always 
been  told  that  it  makes  people  very 
irritable.” 

“Yes,  I know  all  that.  May.  But 
he  was  not  suffering  to-day.  I felt  as 
if  I must  say  something,  and  I really 
tliink.  May,  if  you  would  show  a little 
more  spirit,  it  would  keep  him  in  bet- 
ter order,” 

“You  forget,  Henry,  that  I am  a 
professed  follower  of  the  meek  and 
lowly  Saviour ; I have  studied  his 
character,  and  I long  to  be  just  like 


MAT  S COUSIl^S. 


75 


him.  When  I first  thought  myself  a 
Christian,  I made  such  sore  mistakes ; 
thinking  that  my  mission  was  out  of 
doors.  I used  to  spend  so  much  time 
among  the  Sunday-school  children,  and 
in  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  that  I ne- 
glected my  duties  at  home;  it  tried 
papa  very  much,  and  I resolved  by 
God’s  help  to  do  my  duty  in  that  sta- 
tion of  life  where  he  has  been  pleased 
to  place  me.” 

“ Do  you  think  it  wrong  to  be  a 
Sunday-school  teacher,  and  a visitor 
of  the  poor.  May  ?” 

“No,  indeed ; I think  it  a great 
privilege  and  a sacred  duty,  but  I do 
not  believe  that  I should  leave  one 
: duty  unperformed  at  home,  for  the 

! sake  of  out  door  benevolence.” 

I 

“ You  are  a good,  sober,  little  Chris- 
tian, May ; but  don’t  get  angelic  too 


76 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


fast,  if  you  do,  you  will  glide  away 
from  us  too  soon,  and  seek  your  native 
skies.” 

“ Nonsense!  Henry,  I am  not  in  the 
least  angelic ; hut  I do  admire  that 
beautiful  chapter  in  Corinthians,  where 
it  describes  the  loveliness  of  Christian 
charity,  I study  it  almost  daily.” 

“ I am  sure.  May,  that  you  have 
attained  one  of  the  heavenly  graces ; 
for  if  you  are  not  long-suffering  and 
kind,  I do  not  know  where  to  look  for 
one  who  is.” 

“ If  there  is  anything  about  me  like 
the  Saviour,  the  credit  is  not  mine, 
Henry — for  I know  that  I am  natu- 
rally like  others,  proud,  selfish,  and 
impatient ; if  I have  any  of  his  lovely 
temper,  it  is  all  by  grace.” 

“ If  your  patient  love  does  not  over- 


may’s  cousins. 


77 


come  Uncle  Castleton  at  last,  I shall 
,|  say  he  is  no  better  than  a brute,  May.” 
“ Don’t,  Henry,  speak  so  of  my  fa- 
ther ; I know  that  he  loves  me,  and  I 
am  sure  the  day  will  come  when  he 
will  show  it  more  openly  than  he  does 
now.  I can  wait.” 

“ By  the  way.  May,  do  you  know 
that  next  Thursday  is  my  birth-day  ? 
I shall  then  be  twenty,  and  it  is  to  be 
celebrated  by  an  evening  party ; you 
must  come  of  course.” 

“ If  I can,  nothing  would  please  me 
more ; but  papa’s  attacks  are  so  un- 
certain, I cannot  promise.” 

“ He  is  not  going  to  be  sick.  May. 
You  must  wear  a white  dress,  and 
nothing  but  rose-buds  in  your  hair ; 
bring  some  of  your  music,  too.” 

The  cousins  took  an  early  departure, 


78 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


and  their  last  injunction  as  they  drove 
otf  was,  “ Remember  Thursday,  May ; 
keep  your  father  well.” 

“ Did  you  ever  see  a more  lovely 
girl  than  May?”  said  Henry.  “If 
ever  there  was  a patient,  loving,  gentle 
Christian,  she  is  one.” 

“ That  she  is,  Henry  ; but  I some- 
times think  that  she  is  rather  too  tame 
for  this  sinful  world ; everybody  can 
impose  upon  her,  she  is  so  very  pa- 
tient and  loving.” 

“ Did  you  observe  her  answers  to 
that  brute  of  a father,  at  the  table  ?” 
asked  Ellen. 

“Yes,  indeed!  I never  saw  any- 
thing more  lovely  than  her  conduct 
to  her  father.  I felt  as  if  I could 
knock  him  down.  Mark  my  words 
Ellen,  she  will  be  a blessing  to  him 
yet.” 


may’s  cousixs. 


79 


“ And  Edward  is  very  trying ; he  is 
so  spoilt,  so  impatient  of  restraint,  I 
often  wonder  how  she  puts  up  with 
his  tantrums  of  temper.” 

“ She  is  a real  Christian,  Ellen.  In 
her,  we  see  what  real  piety  is ; the 
counterfeits  around  us  are  what  rejiel 
us ; hut  such  as  hers  must  attract.” 

“ Miss  Warren  regards  her  as  one 
of  the  brightest  specimens  of  piety  in 
her  Bible-class,”  was  Ellen’s  reply ; 
“ but  the  good,  simple  girl  has  not  the 
slightest  idea  that  she  is  anything  but 
the  very  humblest  imitation  of  her 
Saviour.” 


CHAPTER  VI. 

UENlll’S  BIIiTH-DAT. 

j\Iay  is  busy  making  preparations 
for  the  expected  party.  Papa  is  much 
better,  even  cheerful,  and  takes  con- 
siderable interest  in  her  dress. 

“ I think  a pink  silk,  handsomely 
trimmed,  would  be  becoming,  daugh- 
ter ; you  can  easily  send  to  New  York, 
and  have  it  made,”  said  Mr.  Castle- 
ton. 

“ I have  decided  upon  a thin  mus- 
lin, papa,  with  pink  sash,  and  rose- 
buds in  my  hair,”  was  the  answer. 

“ Just  as  you  please,  my  child ; but 
a handsomer  dress  would  seem  to  suit 
the  daughter  of  Mr.  Castleton  better.” 


80 


henry’s  birth-day. 


81 


When  all  was  ready,  May  arrayed 
herself  in  her  simple  costume,  and 
stole  into  her  father’s  room. 

“That  Avill  do.  May,”  was  the  some- 
what sad  remark  that  was  made  when 
he  looked  upon  her;  “just  so  your 
mother  looked  at  your  age.” 

Thursday  arrived  at  length,  and  to 
poor  May’s  disappointment,  papa  had 
passed  a wretched  night,  and  was  too 
great  a sufferer  to  permit  her  to  think 
of  leaving  him  alone ; and  with  his 
disease,  returned  in  full  force  his  im- 
patience and  irritability. 

“ I am  so  sorry,  papa,  to  see  you  so 
much  worse,”  was  the  innocent  remark 
of  the  young  girl. 

“ I dare  say  that  you  are,  for  you 
will  be  disappointed  of  your  pleasure, 
and  instead  of  a merry  evening  with 
gay,  young  spirits,  will  have  to  put 


82 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


up  with  a gloomy  one  with  your  sick 
father.” 

May  was  sorely  dissatisfied  with 
herself,  for  instead  of  submitting  cheer- 
fully, the  tears  would  come,  and  she 
felt  the  disappointment  keenly.  Re- 
tiring for  a little  while  to  her  room, 
there  lay  her  pretty  dress  and  sash, 
her  slippers  and  simple  ornaments  all 
so  invitingly  spread  before  her.  She 
seated  herself  by  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and  for  a few  minutes,  shed  some  quiet 
tears ; but  struggling  hard  with  her 
natural  feelings,  she  bowed  a moment 
before  her  Father  in  heaven,  and 
prayed  for  submission  to  everything 
that  he  had  sent. 

Wasliing  her  eyes,  for  fear  that  her 
father  should  see  traces  of  tears,  she 
quietly  put  aside  her  dress,  and  de- 
scended to  his  room,  with  the  same 


henry’s  birth-day. 


83 


serene  and  cheerful  face  as  though 
nothing  had  happened ; and  yet  it  had 
been  a severe  struggle  while  it  lasted. 
I Tea  was  ordered  in  the  library,  and 
May  presided  as  usual.  Edward  had 
i gone  to  the  party,  and  little  Flora  was 
: the  only  one  at  the  table  beside  May 

and  her  father. 

After  supper  was  removed,  papu, 
was  comfortably  placed  upon  the 
lounge,  with  the  softest  cushion  that 
could  be  found  for  his  swollen  foot,  the 
light  carefully  shaded  from  his  eyes, 
and  May  seated  herself  to  read. 

“ What  shall  it  be  papa  ?”  asked  the 
good  child. 

“ The  evening  paper  first,  and  then 
^lacaulay.” 

And  so  the  young  girl  read  on  with 
her  harmonious  voice,  and  clear  enun- 
ciation. No  wonder  that  Mr.  Castle- 


84 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


ton  was  sootliecl  by  the  sweet  ministry 
of  his  gentle,  self-denying  daughter. 

After  an  hour’s  reading,  May  was 
directed  to  bring  some  embrocation 
used  when  he  was  sutfering;  as  she 
arose  somewhat  hastily,  she  touched 
the  foot.  A scream  of  agony  fol- 
lowed. 

“ Can’t  you  be  more  careful,  May?” 
he  roared  with  an  oath. 

“ I beg  a thousand  pardons,  dear 
papa,  I did  not  see  that  your  foot  was 
off  the  sofa,”  and  she  smoothed  his 
hair,  and  kissed  the  brow  so  furrowed 
with  pain. 

“You  are  a good  girl,  May,”  said  her 
father,  touched  by  her  affectionate  ex- 
pressions of  sympathy,  “ always  pa- 
tient with  your  suffering,  impatient 
hither.” 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  a ser- 


!! 

Ij 


“Sec.  Piijia,  We’ll  have  a juirty  after  all." 
May  Oislh:lnii' a Mia^inii. 


■M  i 


henry’s  birth-day. 


85 


vant  arrived  from  the  “ Cedars,”  with 
a note  and  bouquet  for  May,  and  re- 
freshments from  the  supj:)er-table. 

“ See ! papa,  we’ll  have  a party  after 
all,”  and  May  brought  out  a little 
table,  spread  out  her  dainties,  and  then 
sending  for  good  Mrs.  Lisle,  the  house- 
keeper, she  ran  out  of  the  room  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  returning  with  the 
pretty  rose-buds  in  her  dark  hair,  she 
sat  down  with  her  bright  young  face 
decked  with  smiles,  for  this  was  a 
ministry  of  love,  always  bringing  sun- 
beams. 

“ Now,  papa,  I am  Avearing  the  rose- 
buds for  you,  for  this  is  our  party; 
but  you  must  just  be  contented  Avith 
what  I shall  give  you,”  and  May 
spread  before  him  some  choice  grapes, 
ice-cream  and  delicate  sponge-cake. 

Mrs.  Lisle  looked  at  the  young  girl 
8 


8G 


MAY  CASTLETON  S MISSION. 


with  very  moist  eyes,  for  she  had  seen 
the  pretty  dress  all  ready  for  the 
evening,  and  knew  that  the  disap- 
pointment had  been  a sore  one. 

But  May  had  reall}'^  helped  her 
father  to  forget  his  pain,  by  her 
womanly  tact  and  kindness,  and  when 
she  had  at  last  seen  him  comfortably 
disposed  of  for  the  night,  she  had  her 
sweet  reward,  as  he  drew  her  down  to 
his  breast,  and  kissing  her  fondly, 
said, 

“ God  bless  you,  May ! You  are 
my  second  good  angel ; you  gave  up 
your  own  pleasure  so  cheerfully  for 
your  father’s  sake.” 

“ But  I did  feel  it,  dear  papa,  and 
had  to  fight  hard  to  keep  down  the 
murmuring;  let  me  say  just  one  word 
now,  and  don’t  be  angry — if  you 
would  only  stop  saying  those  dreadful 


nEXRY’S  BIRTH-DAY. 


87 


words,  papa — I hear  them  all  night 
long.” 

“What  dreadful  words,  May?” 

“When  you  take  God’s  blessed 
name  in  vain,  papa.” 

“ It  is  not  right,  I confess,  but  it  is 
such  a habit  May,  that  I don’t  know 
when  I say  them.  But  I will  try, 
little  daughter,  just  to  please  you. 
Now  good-night,  my  child,  I am  not 
angry.” 

May  imprinted  another  kiss,  and 
turned  away  with  a tranquil,  hopeful 
spirit.  She  had  never  said  so  much 
to  her  father  before,  and  now  that  he 
had  listened  to  her  without  anger,  she 
was  so  thankful. 

As  soon  as  she  went  to  her  room, 
she  read  Henry’s  note. 

“ I knew  how  it  would  be,  that  your 
father  would  contrive  to  keep  you 


88 


MAT  CASTLETOX’S  MISSION, 


at  home ; I had  no  pleasure,  May,  for 
I had  built  upon  your  coming,  but  I 
suppose  there  you  sat  in  that  gloomy 
old  library,  nursing  a sore  foot,  and 
smiling  so  serenely  upon  your  cross 
old  father.  It  is  too  provoking!  I 
counted  on  your  presence,  and  your 
sweet  voice  more  than  on  any  one  else, 
and  to  be  so  disappointed  is  really  too 
bad.  Accept  the  little  otfering  -svhich 
I send,  and  don’t  be  angry  at  this 
naughty  outburst,  from  Cousin  Harry.” 

“ Did  jmu  see  how  sweetly  Miss 
]May  waited  upon  that  father  of 
hers?”  said  Mrs.  Lisle,  to  Hannah, 
the  waiter-girl, 

“ Yes,  indeed  ! I never  saw  such  a 
patient  lamb  in  all  my  life;  she  never 
loses  her  temper,  and  I know  it’s  sorely 
tried  many  a time.” 

“ I knew  one  just  like  her,  and  that 


henry's  birth-day. 


89 


was  her  own  dear  mother,  Hannah ; 
they  are  as  much  alike  as  two  peas — 
in  looks,  in  ways,  and  character.” 

“ She  is  such  a dear  loving  little 
thing,”  was  the  girl’s  reply ; “ all  that 
she  thinks  of,  is  how  she  can  make 
everybody  happy.  There  is  old  Betty, 
when  she  is  sick,  Miss  May  waits  upon 
her  just  as  if  she  was  a lady,  gives  the 
medicine  herself,  reads  to  her,  and 
talks  such  good,  pretty  words.” 

“ Yes,  that  is  just  so,  Hannah — kind 
words  for  every  one;  there  is  not  a 
servant  in  this  house  that  would  think 
gold  too  much  for  her  to  eat,  if  it 
could  do  her  any  good.  Every  day 
she  brings  me  my  bunch  of  flowers 
the  whole  year  round,  just  because 
she  knows  I think  so  much  of  them.” 
“ When  I see  Mr.  Castleton  so  hard 
on  her.  never  uivino’  her  credit  for 


90  MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION, 

anything  she  does,  and  see  how  pa- 
tiently she  bears  it  all,  never  showing 
anything  but  those  grea,t  big  tears  that 
will  come,  I feel  sometimes  as  if  I 
can’t  hold  my  tongue,  and  have  to 
hurry  away  for  fear  I shall  get  my 
walking-ticket,” 

“She  has  just  such  trials  as  her 
dear  mother  had,  Hannah,  Many  a 
time  have  I seen  that  dear  lamb  after 
having  done  all  that  she  could  to 
soothe  him,  just  go  quietly  to  her 
room,  I well  knew  to  weep  and  pray ; 
but  never  a word  passed  her  lips  like 
complaint  of  her  husband,  for  she 
knew  that  he  loved  the  very  ground 
she  walked  upon.  But  he  did  not 
make  her  happy  for  all  that.” 

“ It  is  a terrible  bad  thing  to  have 
such  a temper,  Mrs.  Lisle,”  said  Han- 


henry’s  birth-day. 


91 


nah,  “ I’ll  take  good  care  I don’t  get 
such  a husband.” 

Flora,  too,  was  often  a trying  little 
girl,  for  having  so  long  led  an  idle  life, 
she  stoutly  resisted  May’s  efforts  to 
bring  her  into  regular  systematic 
habits,  but  kindness  was  working 
wonders  here  also,  and  Flora  was  often 
heartily  ashamed  of  the  trouble  which 
she  gave  to  good  sister  May. 

Edward  was  his  father’s  idol,  for 
being  the  only  son,  his  father’s  hopes 
were  centered  chiefly  upon  this  boy. 

1 Furnished  in  a most  injudicious  man- 
j ner  with  plenty  of  money,  the  boy  was 
; acquiring  habits  of  extravagance  and 
self-indulgence  most  injurious  to  a 
I wild,  thoughtless  youth. 

I The  most  of  his  time  he  spent  out 
of  doors  ; riding,  fishing,  boating,  gun- 
ning, choosing  his  own  companions. 


92 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


no  matter  who,  so  that  they  were  what 
he  styled  “good  fellows.”  May  often 
remonstrated,  hut  all  in  vain.  Papa 
thought  that  “it  could  do  no  harm,  it 
was  now  vacation,  and  soon  he  must 
1‘eturn  to  school.  Let  him  enjoy  him- 
self while  he  can,”  was  the  answer 
always  given  to  the  sister’s  warnings. 

And  yet  Edward  was  very  proud 
of  his  sister  Mav,  and  loved  her,  too, 
most  devotedly.  Ao  one  could  do 
anything  with  him,  when  bent  upon 
some  wild  exploit,  but  his  sister,  and 
many  a time,  by  some  gentle  hint,  or 
substituted  pleasure,  did  she  lure  him 
away  from  bad  company. 

With  these  numerous  objects  of  care 
and  anxiety,  she  still  found  some  time 
for  her  Sunday-scholars.  Whenever 
it  was  possible,  she  would  visit  them, 
but  as  that  could  not  be  regularly, 


henry’s  birth-day. 


93 


she  encouraged  them  to  call  upon  her, 
I and  many  a child  might  be  seen  tra- 
i veling  up  the  avenue  with  her  little 
' basket,  which  she  carried  away  well- 
filled  with  domestic  comforts. 

But  May  was  growing  pale  and  lan- 
' guid.  Henry  and  Ellen,  who  were 
frequent  visitors,  observed  it,  and 
whenever  they  could  steal  her  away, 
would  manage  to  take  her  out,  at  least 
once  a week,  on  some  pleasant  drive. 

“Do  you  mean  to  destroy  your 
health  entirely.  May  ?”  asked  her  cou- 
sin, “ no  one  can  stand  such  close 
confinement  without  suffering.” 

“ It  is  only  a fancy,  Henry ; I am 
perfectly  well,  only  a little  pale ; that 
is  nothing.” 

“ You  are  thin.  May ; your  cheeks 
are  growing  hollow.  I won’t  have 
any  more  of  this ; I am  sure  that  you 


94  MAT  castleton’s  mission, 

could  ride  out  on  horse-back  every 
morning,  if  you  would.  Won’t  you 
promise  me?  TJncle  Castleton  does 
not  rise  early,  and  an  hour  before 
breakfast  would  do  you  so  much 
good.” 

It  was  really  an  inviting  offer,  and 
IMay  could  see  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  go.  Accordingly  she  made 
the  promise,  and  punctually  at  six  o’ 
clock,  Henry  and  Ellen  presented 
themselves.  May  enjoyed  these  sum- 
mer morning  rides  exceedingly  ; they 
were  just  what  she  needed;  fresh 
morning  air,  and  brisk  exercise  did 
Avonders ; the  roses  came  back  to  her 
cheek,  vigor  to  her  frame,  and  bright 
animation  to  her  spirits. 

“ XoAv,  May,  am  I not  a good  doc- 
tor?” said  Henry,  as  they  cantered  up 
the  avenue  after  one  of  these  morning 


henry’s  birth-day. 


95 


rides ; “ you  are  getting  as  rosy  as  a 
milk-maid,  and  as  lively  as  a bee.” 

“ I am  really  indebted  to  you,  Henry. 
All  day  I feel  so  ditferent  if  I miss 
my  ride,  and  it  really  does  not  inter- 
fere with  any  duty ; papa  is  never  up 
when  I leave  home,  and  I am  always 
back  in  time  for  breakfast.” 

“ Do  you  know.  May,  that  I hear 
so  much  about  your  good  deeds  among 
the  people  around  the  ‘ Elms,’  that  I 
expect  some  of  these  days  to  hear  you 
sainted,  certainly  among  the  Catho- 
lics?” 

“ You  are  always  telling  me  some 
foolish  thing,  Henry.  It  is  not  much 
that  I can  do  for  these  poor  peo2ole, 
but  papa  is  really  good  to  many  of 
them,  and  he  gets  me  to  distribute  his 
alms ; so  there  is  not  much  due  to  me 
after  all.” 


96 


MAT  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ There  is  some  difference  of  senti- 
ment upon  this  subject,  May;  I’m 
ju’etty  wilful,  as  you  must  know  by 
tliis  time,  and  shall  continue  to  think 
as  I please.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 

F^UtEWJEZL  TO  A3IERICA. 

Mr.  Castleton’s  frequent  attacks 
of  illness  had  made  sore  inroads  upon 
his  strength,  and  though  his  chief 
malady  was  really  better,  his  debility 
was  increasing,  and  the  physicians 
ordered  a voyage  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  a year’s  sojourn  on  the  continent. 

Edward  was  placed  at  school.  Flora, 
being  rather  a delicate  child,  was  to 
accompany  the  family.  Mrs.  Hazleton 
had  long  desired  an  opportunity  to 
visit  Europe,  and  as  her  son  had  just 
graduated,  to  join  the  party  seemed 
the  best  thing  that  she  could  do. 

The  “Cedars”  house  was  closed, 

97 


9 


98 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


the  “ Elms  ” placed  under  the  care  of 
Mrs.  Lisle,  and  preparations  hurried 
forward  for  departure  in  the  early  au- 
tumn. 

The  servants  were  truly  sorry  to 
part  wuth  “ dear  Miss  May,”  for  they 
all  loved  the  sweet  young  girl. 

John,  the  coachman,  was  to  accom- 
pany them,  for  having  long  been  ac- 
customed to  Mr.  Castleton,  he  could 
not  be  dispensed  with.  May’s  pastor 
gave  her  a kind  letter  of  introduction 
to  any  Christian  minister  under  whose 
care  she  might  be  placed,  for  she  was 
a very  dear  member  of  his  flock. 

There  are  always  feelings  of  sadness 
on  leaving  familiar  scenes  and  entering 
upon  an  unknown  future.  May  expe- 
rienced much  of  this  depression  as  she 
took  the  last  look  at  the  home  of  her 
childhood  ; and  little  Flora  shed  many 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


99 


tears  on  parting  with  her  pets,  charg- 
ing Mrs.  Lisle  again  and  again  to  take 
care  of  Bijou  and  Fid. 

It  was  a bright  spring  morning, 
when  the  carriage  containing  the  trav- 
elers drove  finally  away  from  the 
“ Cedars.” 

The  sun  shone  cheerily  upon  the 
village  church-steeple  as  they  passed, 
and  the  bells  rang  out  a merry  peal, 
for  the  pastor  was  to  be  married  that 
morning,  and  the  sexton  had  arranged 
that  joy  bells  should  celebrate  the 
day. 

But  strange  to  say,  they  brought 
no  joyful  thrill  to  May  Castleton’s 
heart,  and  she  asked.  When  shall  1 
hear  their  sweet  chimes  again  ? 

As  the  carriage  drove  on,  fainter 
and  fainter  sounded  the  dear  church- 


100 


MAT  CASTLETOT  S MISSION, 


bells,  and  familiar  objects  rapidly 
passed  aAvay. 

The  bustle  of  a great  city,  and 
the  noise  of  embarkation  somewhat 
changed  the  current  of  thought,  and 
once  on  board  of  the  steamer,  May 
entered  upon  a new  life,  for  she  had 
never  been  out  at  sea. 

After  the  sea-sickness  had  passed 
away,  she  was  never  tired  of  looking 
at  the  grand  ocean  ; her  father  seemed 
so  much  revived  by  the  sea  air,  that 
her  spirits  rose  day  by  day,  and  the 
young  people  added  not  a little  to  the 
social  circle  on  board. 

Indeed,  May  was  the  bright  sun- 
lio'ht  of  the  vessel.  The  wmather- 

O 

beaten  tars,  wdth  their  long  yarns  and 
merry  songs,  attracted  her  attention, 
and  a little  book,  a paper,  or  a tract, 


FAKEvVELL  TO  AMERICA. 


101 


coming  from  the  young  lady,  was 
always  welcome  to  the  hardy  seamen. 

The  rolling  porpoise,  the  lively  dol- 
phin, “Mother  Carey’s  chickens,”  were 
all  so  many  objects  of  wonder  to  the 
young  folks,  and  the  voyage  was  really 
so  pleasant,  that  none  of  the  party 
felt  at  all  anxious  for  its  close.  But 
when  the  chalk  cliffs  of  Dover  first 
appeared,  May  realized  that  she  was 
thousands  of  miles  away  from  home, 
and  that  soon  her  feet  would  press  the 
ground  of  a new  continent. 

By  the  first  steamer,  they  made  a 
quick  passage  across  the  Channel,  and 
on  reaching  Paris,  Mr.  Castleton  pro- 
posed staying  long  enough  to  see  the 
sights  of  the  French  metropolis. 

The  novelty  and  grandeur  of  the 
French  capital  filled  their  young 
minds  with  wonder.  The  Tuilleries, 

9 * 


102 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


of  which  they  had  read  so  often,  was 
now  a reality,  the  Champs  Elysees  no 
longer  a mere  dream  of  fairy  land,  the 
Church  of  Notre  Dame,  an  actual 
magnificent  building,  the  galleries  of 
art,  stupendous  wonders,  and  the  mu- 
sic of  the  Cathedral,  wings  on  which 
to  mount  towards  heaven. 

But  the  ungodliness  of  Paris  sadly 
disturbed  May  Castleton.  No  appear- 
ance was  there  of  a Sabbath-day  any- 
where. With  some  difficulty,  in  com- 
pany with  Flora  and  her  cousins,  she 

found  her  wav  to  the  Protestant 

•/ 

chapel. 

But  papa  soon  became  anxious  to 
reach  the  warm  baths  of  Germany, 
and  having  satisfied  their  curiosity, 
the  party  were  again  on  the  wing. 

Their  knowledge  of  the  French  lan- 
guage was  invaluable,  for  everywhere 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


103 


upon  the  continent,  travelers  can  be  at 
home  who  speak  that  tongue. 

People  of  many  countries  crowded 
the  hotels  around  these  celebrated 
baths,  and  the  motley  group  assembled 
daily  on  the  piazzas,  and  around  the 
environs,  afforded  great  amusement  to 
the  young  travelers,  especially  to 
Henry  Hazleton. 

A sojourn  of  a few  weeks  wrought 
a great  change  in  Mr.  Castleton.  May 
was  delighted  when  papa  could  join 
their  walking-parties  and  seemed  to 
be  growing  cheerful  once  more.  Win- 
ter was  now  approaching,  and  the 
party  proceeded  to  the  south  of  France, 
intending  in  the  spring  to  seek  the 
romantic  scenery  of  Switzerland. 

Taking  a furnished  house,  they 
found  themselves  delightfully  situated 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  where 


104 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


the  climate  was  so  charming,  that  they 
could  sit  among  the  branches  of  the 
orange  trees  in  full  blossom,  and  enjoy 
their  fragrance  as  though  it  were 
balmy  spring,  instead  of  winter. 

Engaging  the  services  of  professors 
of  music,  French,  and  drawing,  the 
three  elder  ones  laid  out  their  winter’s 
work,  while  a governess  was  employed 
for  Flora.  Provided  with  abundant 
reading.  May  spent  some  hours  daily 
in  amusing  her  father ; indeed,  she 
was  now  quite  indispensable  to  his 
comfort.  The  Rev.  Pierre  Valette,  a 
French  Protestant,  was  one  of  their 
neighbors,  and  being  a man  of  much 
intelligence,  was  quite  an  acquisition 
to  the  family  circle. 

He  was  a frequent  visitor,  and  his 
pastoral  care  was  an  invaluable  bless- 
ing to  the  young  people.  When  the 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


105 


■time  came  for  a separation,  all  parties 
were  sorrowful,  for  it  was  not  likely 
that  they  would  ever  meet  the  good 
minister  on  this  side  of  eternity. 

Being  well  acquainted  with  the 
pastor  of  the  little  church  which  they 
would  probably  attend  in  Switzerland, 
he  gave  them  letters  of  introduction  to 
Pastor  St.  Felix,  warmly  commending 
them  to  his  kind  offices.  A journey 
through  a most  picturesque  country,  at 
a charming  season,  brought  them  at 
last  to  their  stopping-place.  A neat 
little  furnished  cottage  situated  on  one 
of  the  mountain  slopes  of  Switzerland, 
presented  most  attractions. 

It  had  previously  been  occujiied  by 
travelers  like  themselves,  in  search  of 
health  and  fine  scenery,  and  May  was 
charmed  with  the  rural  felicity  which 
she  expected  beneath  its  roof. 


106 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


A little  garden  of  flowers  and  veg- 
etables was  attached  to  the  cottage, 
and  John  was  pleased  with  the  idea 
of  having  something  to  do,  beside 
waiting  on  Mr.  Castleton.  But  there 
was  one  difficulty  in  the  way ; the 
house  was  much  too  small  for  the 
whole  party ; so,  taking  an  early  op- 
portunity, they  called  upon  the  good 
pastor  stating  their  dilemma.  Pastor 
St.  Felix  was  one  of  those  saintly 
men  of  whom  we  read,  in  connection 
with  the  history  of  the  Protestant 
ministers  of  those  interesting  regions. 

His  silver  hair  and  serene  counte- 
nance gave  him  the  appearance  of 
being  really  older  than  he  was,  and 
here,  far  away  in  an  obscure  village  of 
Switzerland,  they  found  a man  of  piety, 
intelligence,  and  such  refinement  as 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


107 


a deep  acquaintance  with  the  things 
of  God  will  always  supply. 

His  daughter,  Clemence,  was  a 
simple-hearted  Swiss  girl,  who  wel- 
comed the  young  people  to  the  par- 
sonage with  a hearty,  warm  glow  of 
genuine  politeness ; and  though  her 
dress  ivas  extremely  primitive,  there 
was  something  about  her  that  attracted 
at  once,  and  the  youthful  jiortion  of 
the  party  felt  that  they  had  at  least 
one  companion  among  the  mountains. 

“We  are  quite  troubled  about  lodg- 
ings,” said  Mrs.  Hazleton,  to  the  worthy 
man,  “ my  brother-in-law’s  house  is 
much  too  small  to  accommodate  more 
than  his  own  family,  and  we  shall 
have  to  ask  your  aid  in  directing  us 
to  a home.” 

“ If  you  can  put  up  with  our  hum- 


108 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


was  the  reply  of  the  good  pastor; 
“ frequently,  in  the  summer  season  we 
have  had  such  occupants,  and  their 
society  has  often  been  a source  of 
pleasure.” 

“ You  are  very  good,”  replied  Mrs. 
Hazleton,  “ nothing  could  be  more 
agreeable  to  us;  we  had  scarcely  hoped 
for  such  good  fortune.” 

“ Clemence,  show  the  lady  the 
rooms,”  said  her  father.  And  the 
young  girl  proceeded  to  open  the  win- 
dows of  two  very  neat  and  airy  rooms, 
looking  out  upon  a picturesque  land- 
scape of  the  neighborhood,  and  a dis- 
tant view  of  the  glorious  Alps. 

Plain  furniture,  pure  white  curtains, 
and  perfect  cleanliness  decided  the 
travelers  at  once  to  engage  the  apart- 
ments. Before  taking  her  departure, 
all  arrangements  were  concluded,  and 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


109 


the  next  morning,  the  family  took 
possession  of  their  rooms. 

Clemence  was  a good  musician,  and 
her  sweet  performance  added  much  to 
the  devotions  of  the  morning  and 
evening  sacrifice,  maintained  in  the 
pastor’s  home,  and  attended  by  his 
lodgers.  Mrs.  Hazleton  considered 
herself  very  fortunate  in  having  se- 
cured so  pleasant  a place  of  sojourn. 

A Swiss  servant  was  engaged  at  the 
Castleton  cottage,  and  Babette,  with 
her  short  woolen  dress,  wooden  shoes, 
and  grotesque  cap,  was  quite  an  amus- 
ing object  to  the  young  folks.  Little 
Flora  seemed  never  to  grow  tired  of 
following  her  about,  and  asking  ques- 
tions about  the  strange  ways  of  this 
new  country. 

Settled  at  length  in  a home  where 

they  should  probably  spend  some 
10 


no 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


months,  ]SIay  proceeded  to  arrange 
her  round  of  duties ; reading  to  her 
father;  little  Flora’s  lesson;  her  own 
studies,  were  all  duly  provided  for. 
]\Ir.  Castleton  seemed  so  much  better, 
that  she  anticipated  much  pleasure  in 
out-door  excursions  in  this  magnificent 
country. 

Anxious  to  pursue  her  musical 
studies,  she  found  that  a piano  could 
be  hired  in  a neighboring  city,  and 
brought  in  a steamer  down  the  lake. 
Moreover,  Clemence  had  received  a 
thorough  musical  education  at  Geneva, 
under  the  best  professors,  and  had 
been  frequently  employed  by  visitors 
as  a teacher  of  their  children. 

This  was  charming,  because  so  un- 
expected, and  when  May  found  that 
Flora  and  herself  could  be  so  well 
provided  for,  she  lost  no  time  in  en- 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


Ill 


gaging  tlie  services  of  the  young 
Swiss. 

Surrounded  by  scenery  so  new  and 
beautiful,  much  of  the  first  week  was 
spent  by  the  young  people  in  explor- 
ing the  neighborhood,  in  pointing  out 
its  beauties,  and  laying  many  plans 
for  the  future. 

Sunday  dawned  upon  them  brightly, 
and  as  the  little  church  was  Avithin 
walking  distance,  the  sound  of  the 
church-bell  stealing  through  the  val- 
leys, and  up  the  mountain  slope,  was 
most  Avelcome  to  May. 

“Can  I be  spared  to-day,  papa?” 
she  asked,  “ I should  like  so  much  to 
go  to  church.” 

“ You  can  go.  May,  and  I think  that 
I shall  accompany  you ; I feel  quite 
able  to  walk  that  far.” 


112 


MAY  CASTLETON'S  MISSION. 


!May  was  delighted,  for  her  father 
seldom  attended  the  house  of  God. 

Setting  off  early,  they  found  the 
scene  indeed  most  pleasing.  In  every 
direction,  villagers  could  he  seen  wend- 
ing their  way  to  the  village  church. 

Down  the  mountain,  and  up  the 
glens,  clad  in  their  grotesque  costumes, 
men  women  and  children  might  be 
seen  in  groups,  all  bound  in  the  same 
direction. 

The  service  was  beautiful,  because 
so  devout  and  simple.  Clemence 
sided  at  the  organ,  and  the  music  was 
remarkable  for  a village  church.  The 
good  pastor  preached  a solemn  sermon, 
full  of  unction,  full  of  Christ.  After 
church,  the  villagers  crowded  around 
their  good  minister,  exchanging  salu- 
tations, and  answering  to  his  kind 
inquiries  concerning  their  families. 


FAREWELL  TO  AMERICA. 


113 


their  cares,  their  sorrows ; for  all  \\  ere 
his. 

May  felt  that  she  was  under  the  care 
of  a true  shepherd,  one  of  the  Mas- 
ter’s own  servants.  Her  young  heart 
went  out  in  Christian  love  at  once, 
not  only  to  the  good  pastor,  but  to  the 
simple-hearted,  pious  people,  though 
among  the  humblest  of  the  Saviour’s 
flock.  There  is  a blessed  lesson  taught 
in  the  Redeemer’s  school,  “ One  Lord, 
one  faith,  one  baptism,”  and  May  was 

learning  it. 

10  ■* 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

VISIT  TO  Tax:  gien. 

It  is  one  of  the  brightest  clays  in 
spring.  May  and  Flora  have  just 
concluded  their  music  lesson,  and  arc 
escorting  Clemence  to  the  door. 

“ What  say  you  to  an  excursion  up 
the  glen  ?”  asked  the  young  Swiss. 

“ It  would  be  delightful,”  was  the 
cjuick  answer,  “ but  I fear  that  papa 
cannot  spare  me  so  long.” 

“ Let  me  ask  him,  I think  he  will 
grant  my  recjiiest,”  and  away  hurried 
Clemence  to  Mr.  Castleton,  who  was 
reading  in  his  little  parlor. 

“ I am  come  to  beg  a favor,  Mon- 

lU 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


115 


sieur,”  said  Clemence,  as  she  stood 
smiling  at  the  door. 

“ Well ! what  is  it  ? I am  ready  to 
hear  what  you  have  to  say.” 

“We  are  going  to-morrow  on  our 
excursion  up  the  glen ; the  weather  is 
so  inviting,  I came  to  ask  whether 
you  will  not  allow  May  to  accompany 
us.” 

Mr.  Castleton’s  countenance  fell  a 
little ; but  May  had  been  so  patient, 
so  uncomplaining,  that  he  could  not 
well  refuse,  and  replied, 

“ She  can  go,  but  must  not  stay  too 
late.” 

Soon  after  breakfast,  with  their 
baskets  of  lunch,  the  party  gaily  set 
out.  For  a long  distance  they  walked 
along  the  mountain  slopes,  where  the 
fresh  verdure  of  spring  smiled  in  all 
its  beauty.  Passing  several  chalets. 


116 


MAY  CASTL ETON’S  MISSION. 


they  stopped  at  length  at  one  to  buy 
some  milk,  and  as  the  curiosity  of  our 
young  Americans  was  highly  excited, 
they  were  allowed  to  explore  the  cot- 
tages so  ditferent  from  those  at  home. 
The  stones  lying  upon  the  roof,  the 
steps  outside  leading  up  to  the  balcony, 
the  novelty  of  cattle  at  one  end  of  the 
chalet,  and  the  family  at  the  other, 
were  all  objects  of  curiosity 

iSIay  had  often  read  romantic  tales 
of  the  shepherdesses  of  the  Alps,  and 
had  imagined  pretty  maidens,  with 
their  straw  hats  dressed  with  flowers, 
objects  wholly  ditferent  from  the  nut- 
brown  peasants,  clad  in  very  rough 
rustic  garb,  whom  they  met  tending 
their  flocks  upon  the  mountains. 

“ Look  there,  Ellen,”  said  May,  as 
she  directed  her  attention  to  several 
of  these  uncouth-looking  damsels,  “ I 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


117 


am  so  disappointed,  for  I remember 
when  I used  to  read  Mrs,  Sherwood’s 
beautiful  stories,  I so  often  longed  to 
see  some  of  these  lovely  shepherd- 
esses.” 

Ellen  laughed  as  she  replied, 

“ They  are  an  odd-looking  set.  What 
great  clumsy  shoes  they  wear.  May ! 
and  those  head-dresses  are  very  dif- 
ferent things  from  the  fancy  hats  that 
we  have  dreamed  of  trimmed  with 
flowers.” 

“ Still,  Ellen,  they  are  interesting 
to  us,”  answered  May,  “ but  hark ! 
they  are  singing  some  of  their  wild 
mountain  airs  now,”  And  for  several 
minutes  they  stood  listening  to  the 
stirring  notes  of  a hunting  song,  with 
a chorus  in  imitation  of  a mountain 
horn. 

Having  reached  a most  picturesque, 


118  MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 

romantic  spot,  they  halted  for  a while 
to  enjoy  the  charming  picture  spread 
out  before  them.  Though  they  stood  on 
a lofty  height,  above  them  towered  the 
majestic  Alps.  Scattered  down  the 
mountain  slopes  were  many  Swiss  cot- 
tages, with  their  little  gardens ; groups 
of  shepherds  tended  their  flocks  on  thq 
heights  around,  and  far  in  the  distance, 
might  be  seen  the  spire  of  the  village 
church  towering  above  the  rich  foli- 
age. 

The  Swiss  maiden  directed  their  at- 
tention to  an  echo,  and  the  names  of 
Flora,  May,  and  Clemence,  were  echoed 
and  reechoed  from  hill  to  hill. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  a rus- 
tic bridge  spanned  a gentle  stream, 
wdiich  received  the  waters  of  a spark- 
ling cascade  that  came  dashing  and 
foaming  down  one  of  the  mountain 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


119 


cliifs.  And  thus  opened  the  lovely 
glen  to  which  they  were  traveling. 

After  enjoying  their  lunch  under 
the  shade  of  some  fine  old  trees,  they 
entered  the  glen,  and  here  they  came 
upon  quite  a settlement  of  Swiss  peas- 
antry. 

“ This  is  one  of  papa’s  hamlets,” 
said  Clemence;  “ he  preaches  here  twice 
a month ; and  many  specimens  of  hum- 
ble piety  are  found  among  the  peo- 
ple.” 

During  the  whole  walk.  May  had 
been  gathering  wild  flowers,  and  many 
plants  which  she  had  never  seen  in 
her  native  land.  Knowing  how  fond 
her  father  was  of  such  studies,  she 
had  brought  her  herbarium,  and  care- 
fully preserved  her  specimens. 

“ Here,  May,  let  us  stop  to  see  old 
Margot,”  said  Clemence,  and  knocking 


120 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


at  the  door  of  the  cottage,  a very  de- 
formed cripple  made  her  appearance. 

“ How  are  you,  Margot?” 

“ Come  in,  ladies,”  said  the  old  wo- 
man, “ mine  is  a poor  little  hut,  but  I 
will  make  you  welcome;”  and  she 
dusted  off  a rough  pine  bench  for  her 
visitors. 

“ How  are  you  getting  along,  Mar- 
got?” inquired  Clemence,  very  kindly. 

“ God  is  very  good  to  me.  Mademoi- 
selle,” said  the  old  Avoman  ; “ though  I 
suffer  very  much,  he  gives  me  patience 
to  bear  my  pain;  and  the  neighbors 
are  very  kind ; Avhen  I cannot  work, 
they  supply  my  AA^ants,  so  that  I can 
ahvavs  saA",  ‘ The  Lord  is  my  shep- 
herd?” 

May  looked  AA'ith  pity  upon  the  old 
AAmman,  for  she  Avas  bent  nearly  double 
with  rheumatism. 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


121 


“Do  you  live  alone,  Margot?”  she 
inquired. 

“ Yes,  all  alone.  I had  a good 
grand-daughter  once,  who  was  a great 
help  to  her  old  grandmother,  hut  the 
good  Father  took  her  home  when  she 
was  very  young;  I do  not  complain, 
for  the  journey  will  he  a short  one,  and 
there  will  he  good  company  at  the  end. 
I have  learned  to  trust  Grod  in  a school 
of  hardship ; many  of  my  ancestors 
were  among  the  faithful  witnesses  of 
the  Waldenses,  who  sealed  their  faith 
hy  the  shedding  of  their  hlood.” 

ITnconsciously  they  traveled  on,  so 
fascinated  hy  the  heauty  all  around, 
that  they  were  quite  forgetful  of  the 
distance  which  separated  them  from 
home. 

“ Look  at  the  sun,  Clemence,”  said 

May,  “it  seems  rapidly  descending 
11 


122 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


beliind  the  mountains ; I fear  that  we 
shall  be  very  late.” 

Reluctantly  the  part}^  turned  their 
faces  homeward,  and  though  walking 
rapidly,  did  not  arrive  till  very  long 
after  sunset.  A long,  lonely  day  had 
completely  exhausted  Mr.  Castleton’s 
patience,  and  when  May  entered  the 
parlor,  she  saw  at  a glance,  that  papa 
Avas  very  angry. 

“ I wonder  you  did  not  stay  all 
night  with  your  friends.  May ; here 
have  I been  all  day  Avithout  a creature 
to  speak  to ; I suppose  that  you  forgot 
all  about  your  father.” 

“ I hope  that  you  Avill  excuse  me, 
papa;  the  scenery  Avas  so  beautiful, 
and  evcr^dhing  so  neAv,  that  I forgot 
hoAv  far  Aim  Avere  walking,  and  Avhen 
Ave  turned  toAvards  home,  it  Avas  quite 
sunset;  but  I did  not  forget  you,  papa; 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


123 


I have  brought  some  very  curious 
plants,  such  as  we  never  saw  in  Amer- 
ica,” 

“You  need  not  show  them  to  me, 
May ; it  is  all  fudge  to  try  to  make  me 
believe  that  you  care  anything  about 
your  father.  When  you  get  with  your 
cousins,  you  never  know  when  to  come 
home.” 

May  was  deeply  pained.  Poor 
child!  she  felt  that  her  father’s  re- 
proaches were  so  unjust;  but  she  re- 
membered the  long-suffering  patience 
of  the  Master  whom  she  served,  and 
all  her  answers  were  kind. 

A glance  towards  her  father’s  secre- 
tary showed  letters  from  America. 

“ Oh  papa  ! letters  from  home,  are 
they  not?” 

“Yes,  and  fine  news  do  they  con- 
tain. Your  brother  Edward  is  not 


124 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


doing  well  at  college ; here  is  a letter 
from  the  president,  making  sad  com- 
plaints of  his  idleness  and  extrava- 
gance.” 

“I  am  sorry,  papa,  but  don’t  you 
think  a little  less  pocket-money  would 
be  better  for  brother  ?” 

“ That  will  do  very  well  for  you  to 
say.  May ; when  you  are  enjoying 
yourself  every  day,  and  have  all  your 
wants  supiolied.  There  is  your  brother 
cut  off  from  his  family,  and  you  want 
me  to  deny  him  just  the  little  gratifi- 
cation of  some  spending-money.” 

“ I don’t  want  him  deprived  of  any- 
thing that  is  for  his  good,  papa ; but 
if  money  gives  him  the  power  to  waste 
his  time,  and  acquire  bad  habits,  would 
it  not  be  a real  kindness  to  withhold 
it?” 

INIr.  Castleton  knew  that  May  was 


VISIT  TO  THE  JLEX. 


125 


right,  but  so  blind  was  he  to  the  faults 
of  his  son,  and  so  disposed  to  indulge 
I him,  that  the  gentle  remonstrance  was 
all  in  vain. 

Notwithstanding  her  father’s  un- 
kindness, May  hastened  to  see  that  a 
nice  meal  was  prepared,  and  as  soon 
as  she  had  put  away  her  hat  and 
I mantle,  ran  out  to  Babette.  She  was 
I a good  friend  to  May,  and  really 
sympathized  with  the  trials  of  the 
young  girl. 

“ Come,  Babette,  let  us  have  one  of 
your  nicest  omelettes ; and  some  of 
J your  best  cream  toast,  pajia  is  so  fond 
of  them.” 

“ I’ll  do  my  very  best.  Mademoi- 
selle ; never  fear  for  Babette ; she  is 
always  ready  to  wait  upon  her  young 
lady.” 

In  a little  while,  a nice  meal  was 


126  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

spread  upon  the  table,  and  May  seated 
herself  with  her  sweet  loving  face, 
never  tired,  though  often  pained  by 
her  father’s  moroseness. 

The  study  of  her  daily  life  was  im- 
pressing itself  so  beautifully  upon  the 
walk  of  the  young  Christian,  that  al- 
though her  father  would  scarcely  own 
it  to  himself,  it  was  preaching  its 
blessed  silent  lessons,  and  many  a 
night  he  lay  awake,  thinking  of  the 
sweet  pale  face,  and  tender  sorrowful 
eyes,  following  him  so  wistfully  when 
he  was  impatient. 

He  did  not  seem  well  when  ready 
to  retire,  and  IMay  charged  John  to 
keep  a close  watch  upon  her  father,  as 
he  slept  in  a small  communicating 
room. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night.  May 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


127 


was  aroused  by  John  knocking  at  her 
door. 

“ Wake  up,  Miss  May,  master  is 
, very  ill ; I must  go  for  the  doctor  at 
once,  he  has  one  of  his  worst  attacks.” 

Trembling  with  anxiety,  she  hastily 
threw  on  her  dressing-gown,  and  hur- 
I ried  to  her  father’s  bed-side. 

Pie  was  tossing  Avith  agony ; May 
knew  the  usual  remedies,  and  as  far 
as  possible,  with  the  assistance  of  Ba- 
bette,  endeavored  to  relieve  his  suffer- 

I 

ings.  But  her  trouble  was  greatly 
increased  by  the  profane  expressions 
that  dropped  from  his  lips.  She  felt 
his  danger,  for  the  physician  had  al- 
ways dreaded  the  disease  reaching  the 
Autal  organs,  and  now  it  Avas  attacking 
him  in  quite  a new  form. 

Leaning  over  him,  Avith  her  face 
bathed  in  tears,  she  murmured. 


128  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

“ Oh  papa ! don’t  say  such  dreadful 
words ; you  break  my  heart.  Call 
upon  God  in  the  day  of  trouble,  papa, 
but  don’t  take  his  holy,  blessed  name 
in  vain.” 

She  felt  frightened  at  her  temerity, 
but  the  distress  of  the  moment  over- 
came all  fear. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  doctor 
would  never  come,  for  John  had  to 
ride  some  distance  before  he  could  be 
found,  and  there  was  a delay  of 
two  hours  ere  he  arrived  at  the  cot- 
tage. At  length,  in  the  gray  dawn 
of  the  morning.  May  perceived  the 
carriage  coming  up  the  mountain,  and 
flying  to  the  door,  she  welcomed  the 
doctor. 

“ I am  so  glad  that  you  have  come ; 
papa  is  so  very  ill.” 

May  felt  unspeakably  relieved  when 


VISIT  TO  THE  GLEN. 


129 


she  saw  the  ph}"sician  by  the  patient’s 
! bed-side,  for  she  had  often  heard  the 
pastor  speak  of  this  skilful  physician. 

“ Do  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear  young- 
lady  ; this  is  a severe,  but  by  no  means 
dangerous  attack ; it  will  soon  yield  to 
active  remedies.” 

And  the  good  physician  seated  him- 
self for  hours  by  his  patient’s  side. 

He  was  a good  Christian  man,  and 
when  May  heard  him  ask  permission 
to  ask  God’s  blessing  on  the  means 
used,  her  young  heart  went  up  in 
gratitude  to  her  heavenly  Father,  who 
had  sent  a physician  for  soul  and  body 
boo. 

The  violence  of  the  symptoms  speed- 
ily abated,  and  when  the  doctor  left 
them,  her  father  was  comparatively 
comfortable. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MAT’S  MOMKING  WAAK. 

This  was  a long  and  tedious  illness ; 
consequently,  the  pleasant  excursions 
were  for  the  present  at  an  end.  Duty 
was  very  plain,  and  May  was  so  cer- 
tain of  her  Master’s  will,  that  although 
called  upon  to  seclude  herself  so  en- 
tirely, she  was  happy,  for  there  w^as 
peace  within.  Many  an  impatient 
remonstrance  was  she  compelled  to 
listen  to  from  Cousin  Henry,  and  his 
sister  Ellen  ; many  a trial  of  patience 
from  wilful  little  Flora ; but  still  the 
child  loved  her  sister  May,  and  often 
repented  when  she  saw  the  sad  coun- 

130 


may’s  morning  walk. 


131 


tenance  often  caused  by  her  perverse- 
ness. 

“ Don’t  cry,  sister  May,  I wdll  learn 
my  lessons;  but  it  is  so  much  better 
to  run  about  with  Tray ; and  I do  get 
so  tired  of  my  books.  The  birds  can 
hop  about  the  trees,  and  the  lambs 
play  on  the  mountains,  but  I,  a poor 
little  girl,  must  stay  in  the  house  over 
these  old  lessons.” 

“You  must  remember,  Flo,  that 
you  are  a very  different  being  from 
birds  and  lambs.  You  have  a soul, 
dear  little  sis,  and  are  placed  here  to 
be  a useful  servant  of  God ; that  you 
cannot  be,  without  being  trained  for 
such  service.” 

“ Yes,  I know.  May,  but  still  I can- 
not help  longing  to  live  out  of  doors.” 
“ Just  be  a good,  diligent  child ; one 
hour  at  your  lessons,  another  at  your 


132 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


music,  and  then  you  can  run  about 
with  the  lambs,  and  sing  with  the 
sweet  birds  all  day  long.” 

Throwing  her  arms  around  May’s 
neck,  she  kissed  her  dear  sister  again 
and  again. 

“ What  a dear  mother-sister  you 
are,  May;  I am  going  to  be  the  best 
little  thing  in  all  the  village,  just 
see,”  and  away  fleiv  little  Flo,  to  get 
her  books. 

Seating  herself  on  the  pleasant  little 
balcony,  she  set  to  work  with  good 
will;  and  shaking  her  finger  at  old 
Tray,  who  lay  by  her  side,  looking  up 
most  wistfully  in  her  face,  she  said, 

“ There  now.  Tray,  just  be  a good, 
patient  dog  for  a little  while,  and  we 
shall  have  fine  fun.” 

The  dog  shook  his  head  with  an  air 
of  perfect  appreciation  of  his  little 


may’s  morning  walk. 


133 


mistress’  words,  and  drooped  liis 
shaggy  ears,  at  the  same  time  wagging 
his  tail  in  token  of  acquiescence. 

Since  Mr.  Castleton’s  illness,  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  sleeping  late,  and 
May  frequently  embraced  this  oppor- 
tunity to  take  an  early  walk. 

Accordingly  one  very  bright  morn- 
ing, attired  in  her  broad-brimmed 
straw  hat  and  blue  ribbons,  we  behold 
her  with  a very  sweet  and  happy  face 
descending  the  mountain.  With  bas- 
ket in  hand,  and  Tray  trudging  at  her 
side,  she  walked  on  at  a cheerful  pace, 
singing 

“ Lord,  with  glowing  heart  I’d  praise  thee, 

For  the  bliss  thy  love  bestows. 

For  the  pardoning  grace  that  saves  me. 

And  the  peace  that  from  it  flows.” 

She  stopped  every  noAv  and  then  to 

gather  mosses,  ferns,  and  minerals,  for 
12 


134 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


May  never  forgot  her  father’s  pecu- 
liar tastes. 

As  she  pursued  her  way,  a horseman 
in  the  distance  was  seen  ascending  the 
mountain.  May  wondered  who  it  could 
be  at  that  early  hour,  but  soon  per- 
ceived that  it  was  Henry  Hazleton 
taking  a morning  ride.  He  dis- 
mounted, and  walking  by  her  side, 
said, 

“ I am  really  fortunate.  May.  Do 
you  know  that  we  have  not  seen  you 
at  the  parsonage  for  three  weeks? 
You  are  ruining  your  health.  May ; 
your  cheeks  are  as  pale,  and  your  eyes 
as  hollow,  as  if  you  had  been  sick 
yourself  for  a month.” 

“ That  is  only  fancy,  cousin  ; I am 
doing  my  duty ; you  certainly  would 
not  wish  me  to  be  seeking  my  own 


He  'lisiiiuunted  iiml  Avalked  by  her  side. 
Ma y . Ca.sddon's  M <i-.s ion . 


V.  VA. 


I 


may’s  biorxing  walk. 


135 


pleasure  when  papa  is  sick  and  suf- 
fering.” 

“ The  truth  is,  May,  w^e  have  no 
pleasure  'without  you ; Ellen  and  I 
w'ander  about  just  as  if  we  had  no  ob- 
ject in  any  of  our  walks.  Can’t  you 
steal  a'way  sometimes?” 

“No,  Henry,  I shall  never  steal 
away  from  papa.  When  he  w'ishes 
me  to  go,  he  'will  say  so ; in  the  mean- 
, time,  I am  contented;  perhaps  if  I 
j am  always  kind  and  patient  with  him, 
i I may  do  him  good.” 

“When  were  you  ever  anything 
else.  May  ? There  is  that  little  Flo ; 
she  is  enough  to  provoke  a saint,  and 
you  are  never  cross  'with  her;  then 
there  was  Edw^ard,  you  Avere  ahA'ays 
I the  same  gentle  sister ; do  you  knoAv, 
May,  that  I think  you  let  them  impose 
upon  you  ?” 


136 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


May  smiled  one  of  her  own  sweet 
heart-beams. 

“ Don’t  be  alarmed,  Henry  ; all  this 
is  good  discipline ; it  is  teaching  me 
what  I most  want,  to  be  long-suifering 
and  kind.” 

Henry  began  to  tap  his  boot  with 
his  cane. 

“ I have  a crow  to  pick  with  you. 
May.  I used  to  think  that  you  cared 
something  about  your  cousins  ; but  I 
really  don’t  believe  that  you  miss  us 
at  all  up  in  that  grim  cottage.” 

iSIay  was  now  hurt,  for  many  a 
lonely  hour  had  she  spent  when  her 
father  was  sleeping,  and  many  a time 
did  her  warm  young  heart  jmarn  for 
the  comiDanionship  of  her  cousins. 

“ How,  Henry,  this  is  really  unkind; 
when  it  takes  all  the  patience  I can 

to  my 


command  to  submit  cheerfully 


may’s  morning  walk. 


137 


Father’s  will,  and  when  I spend  so 
many  hours  longing  for  the  society  of 
young  spirits,  it  does  seem  so  hard 
that  you  should  reproach  me.  Some- 
times, when  I am  all  alone,  I shed 
real  tears  of  sorrow ; I fear  sometimes 
of  discontent,  and  yet  after  all,  instead 
of  strengthening  me,  you  reproach 
me.” 

“ Forgive  me,  cousin,  I did  not  mean 
to  wound  you,  but  I am  such  a hot- 
headed, blundering  fellow,  and  you 
are  so  precious  to  us  all,  that  I could 
not  help  those  few  thoughtless  words.” 
May  turned  her  deep  truthful  eyes 
upon  Henry’s  face,  and  said, 

“ I Avish,  cousin  Henry,  that  I could 
see  3"ou  beginning  to  think  more  of 
principle,  than  feeling.” 

“You  will  have  to  teach  me.  May, 

as  I think  you  are  teaching  us  all.” 

12  * 


138 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ There  is  a better  teacher,  Henry ; 
sit  at  his  feet,  my  clear  cousin,  and  you 
will  learn  there  only  lessons  of  pa- 
tience and  meekness.” 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the 
foot  of  the  mountain. 

“ I had  forgotten  to  ask  where  you 
are  going  at  this  early  hour,”  said  her 
cousin. 

“ I am  going  to  the  cottage  over  the 
bridge,  where  I get  my  father’s  fresh 
fish  and  eggs.” 

“Shall  I go  with  you,  May?” 

“ Yes,  if  you  please,  for  it  may  be  a 
long  time  before  I see  you  again.” 

“ Can’t  we  come  up  now.  May  ?”  in- 
cpiired  the  youth. 

“ Yes,  next  week  I think,  if  you  do 
not  stay  too  long,  and  make  too  much 
noise.” 


may’s  morning  walk.  139 

Stopping  at  the  old  man’s  cottage, 
there  stood  lame  Margot  of  the  glen. 

“ What  are  you  doing  here  so 
early  ?”  inquired  May. 

“ Old  Peter  gives  me  some  fish  twice 
a week,  and  I don’t  mind  the  walk ; 
but  I am  so  much  obliged  to  you,  Miss 
May,  for  the  'warm  flannel  and  good 
stockings ; I have  had  nothing  like 
them  for  many  a day,”  and  turning  to 
Henry,  the  old  cripple  continued,  “she 
is  a blessed  angel,  so  good  and  kind 
to  everybody.  Here’s  old  Peter,  too, 
can  tell  the  same  tale.” 

May  blushed,  and  placing  her  little 
hand  on  Margot’s  mouth,  she  said, 

“ Don’t  you  know,  Margot,  how 
proud  our  hearts  are?  You  must  be 
careful  how  you  drop  words  which  may 
kindle  a bad  fire.” 

“It’s  just  the  truth,  and  I can’t  help 


140 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


saying  it,”  answered  the  old  woman. 
“ Don’t  I remember  the  day  when  you 
helped  me  into  church,  and  put  me  in 
a pleasant  seat ; me!  poor  old,  crippled 
l^Iargot  1 the  people  are  very  good  to 
me ; but  when  there  are  so  many  hand- 
some young  girls  around  the  door, 
they  don’t  often  pass  them  by,  to  wait 
upon  an  old  cripple.” 

Henry  stood  by,  listening  to  Mar- 
got’s words  with  a gratified  face,  for 
lie  thought  truly,  that  there  was  but 
one  May  Castleton. 

Endeavoring  to  turn  the  subject,  she 
addressed  herself  to  the  old  man. 

“ What  have  you  to-day,  Peter?” 

“ Some  of  the  finest  lake  trout  that 
I have  had  for  a long  time;  I have 
lieen  saving  some  for  you.  Mademoi- 
selle, for  I have  been  expecting  you 
down  on  this  fine  morning.” 


may’s  morning  walk. 


141 


“ Pick  me  out  three  of  the  best, 
Peter,  and  a dozen  eggs,  for  I must 
hurry  home.” 

The  old  man  obeyed  the  orders,  and 
]\Iay  turned  her  face  homeward. 

Henry  insisted  on  carrying  her  bas- 
ket, w'hile  Tray  trudged  on,  looking 
quite  chagrined. 

“ There,  Henry  ! look  at  poor  Tray ; 
he  always  carries  the  basket  for  me, 
and  the  good  old  dog  is  disappointed.” 

“ He  shall  carry  it  part  of  the  way. 
May,  for  I am  not  going  to  venture 
upon  the  fortress  to-day.  I kno'w  that 
uncle  would  pitch  the  basket  after  mo 
if  I did.” 

Arrived  in  sight  of  the  cottage, 
Henry  bade  “ good  morning,”  saying, 

“ I hope  that  these  walks  are  fre- 
quent, May,  for  you  are  taking  back 


142 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


some  morning  roses  upon  your 
clieeks.” 

“ When  papa  is  sick,  this  is  my  only 
exercise,  and  I enjoy  it  so  much.” 

“I  will  remember.  May.  Good- 
bye,” and  as  he  dropped  the  basket, 
old  Tray  took  it  up,  and  with  a quiet, 
satislied  air,  carried  it  quite  out  to  the 
kitchen,  and  sat  it  down  by  Babette’s 
chair. 

“ Well ! old  fellow,  I suppose  that 
you  must  have  a good  breakfast  for 
this,”  and  the  dog  answered  by  one  of 
his  good-natured  growls  that  Babette 
fully  understood. 

“ Good  morning ! dear  papa,”  said 
iSlay,  with  her  bright  face  dressed 
with  smiles,  “ I have  brought  you 
some  of  the  most  delicious  trout,  and 
nice  fresh  eggs ; you  shall  have  a 
breakfast  for  a prince.” 


MAY  S MORNIXG  WALK. 


143 


“ Why,  May,  you  look  as  bright  as 
a young  rose-bud,  to-day ; wdiere  did 
you  get  your  rosy  cheeks  ?’' 

“ From  fresh  morning  air,  and  a 
brisk  walk,  a quiet  spirit,  and  a heart 
so  happy  to  see  you  better.” 

“ I did  not  feel  very  well.  May, 
when  I first  got  out  of  bed,  for  John 
gave  my  foot  such  a knock ; but  I 
can’t  be  ill-humored,  when  there  is 
such  a sunbeam  at  the  table.” 

May  was  very  happy,  for  it  was  so 
seldom  that  papa  expressed  any  ap- 
l^reciation  of  all  her  devotion  and  love, 
and  now  he  looked  at  his  daughter  so 
kindly,  that  May  was  bright  as  a 
spring-bird  all  that  day. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HIDES  AMONG  THE  3IOUNTAENS. 

Geadually  the  invalid’s  health  im- 
proved ; the  long  confinement  had  worn 
upon  his  spirits,  and  he  desired  some 
mode  of  enjoying  the  fresh  air.  Too 
weak  to  walk,  he  hired  a low  carriage, 
and  in  company  with  May  and  Flora, 
they  explored  the  surrounding  neigh- 
borhood. Every  afternoon,  the  queer 
little  carriage  was  seen  traveling  up 
the  mountain  slopes,  through  the 
lovely  glen,  by  the  side  of  the  glassy 
lake,  or  along  the  shady  lanes  of  the 
romantic  village. 

Occasionally,  they  stopped  at  the  par- 
144 


BIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  145 


sonage,  and  took  up  either  Mrs.  Hazle- 
ton or  Ellen,  Henry  often  accompany- 
ing them  on  horseback.  These  were 
pleasant  rides,  for  Mr.  Castleton’s  fine 
taste  was  nice  at  discovering  beauties, 
and  many  a charming  sunset  was  en- 
joyed by  the  party,  stopping  at  some 
favorable  point  where  they  could  best 
behold  the  snow-capped  Alps ; a fea- 
ture always  to  be  admired  in  this 
charming  neighborhood  — sometimes 
standing  aloft  in  cold,  snowy  solitudes, 
or  tipped  with  the  rosy  tints  of  sun- 
set. 

May’s  holy  ministry  was  insensibly 
encircling  her  father  with  its  subduing; 
influence ; he  knew  not  why  it  was, 
but  his  thoughts  were  more  of  heavenly 
things. 

Cousin  Henry,  too,  rejoiced  in  the 
same  ministry,  and  might  often  now 

13 


146 


MAT  CAS'ILETON’S  MISSION, 


be  seen  wending  his  way  up  to  the 
mountain  cottage. 

May  and  Flora  spent  much  time 
out  on  the  balcony  ; and  one  day  as 
they  were  seated  in  this  favorite  spot, 
little  Flo  perceived  a traveler  ap- 
proaching. 

“ Here  comes  Cousin  Henry,  May  ! 
wliat  has  he  got  with  him  ? he  is  lead- 
ing some  kind  of  an  animal  up  the 
mountain.” 

May  laughed  heartily  at  the  jaicture, 
for  there  was  her  cousin  leading  a 
most  obstreperous  goat  by  a rope, 

“ Here,  Flora,  is  a pet  for  you,” 
said  the  youth,  as  he  led  Nan  up  to 
his  little  cousin.  She  was  quite  a 
tame  animal,  having  long  been  a pet 
in  one  of  the  peasant’s  families ; but 
in  the  hands  of  a stranger.  Nan  was 
somewhat  unruly.  Flora  was  de- 


BIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  147 

lighted,  for  she  missed  her  American 
pets  every  day.  Running  to  Babette, 
she  brought  out  a nice  basin  of  milk, 
and  Nan  soon  made  friends  with  the 
little  girl. 

For  several  days.  Flora  was  entirely 
; engrossed  by  her  pet,  and  all  her  spare 
time  was  spent  in  merry  gambols 
around  the  house. 

It  is  one  of  the  finest  days  in  the 
season. 

“ What  do  you  say  to  a sail  on  the 
I lake?”  said  pajia,  “ I feel  as  if  I could 
enjoy  it  to-day.” 

“ Nothing  could  be  more  pleasant,” 
was  the  answer;  “we  will  take  our 
lunch  with  us ; my  guitar,  and  your 
books  ; we  will  ride  to  the  shore,  and 
we  shall  have  a splendid  day.” 

“Can’t  we  take  Nan  along?”  in- 
quired little  Flora. 


148 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


May  smiled. 

“ Do  you  propose  to  take  her  in  the 
carriage,  Flo?” 

“ No,  sister,  I am  not  such  a dunce 
as  that ; hut  I know  Bahette  will  take 
her  down  to  the  shore ; I don’t  want 
to  leave  her  at  home.” 

“ Very  well,  Flo ; if  Bahette  will 
trot  her  along,  she  shall  go.” 

The  good  woman  was  always  ready 
to  gratify  the  little  girl ; accordingly 
all  was  soon  arranged. 

The  carriage  hrought  up,  May  was 
very  careful  to  see  papa  comfortahly 
placed,  hut  with  all  her  precaution, 
she  had  struck  his  foot. 

“That  is  just  like  you.  May,”  said 
the  impatient  man  ; “ can’t  you  re- 
memher  my  foot?  it  seems  as  if  yon 
were  always  hurting  it.” 

“ I would  not  hurt  you  for  the  world, 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS  149 


papa ; I thought  I was  so  careful,  I 
never  forget  your  poor  foot,  and  would 
a great  deal  rather  hurt  myself.” 

“ Then  why  don’t  you  take  better 
care  ?” 

John  was  very  angry  at  the  re- 
proaches of  his  master,  for  he  knew 
how  patient  and  loving  May  Avas  to 
her  suffering  parent.  He  could  scarcely 
restrain  the  Avords  that  seemed  forcing 
themseHes  through  his  lips ; but  he 
contented  himself  Avith  tAvo  or  three 
heaA’y  cracks  of  his  Avhip  on  the  tree 
before  the  house. 

“ What  are  you  making  that  con- 
founded noise  for,  John?”  asked  Mr. 
Castleton ; “ don’t  you  knoAv  that  my 
nerves  can’t  bear  it,  especially  after 
such  a bloAv  ?” 

I guess  somebody  else  has  neiwes, 
thought  John ; you  noA’-er  think  of 

13  * 


150 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


lier’s  when  your  tantrums  are  on 
you. 

But  after  a few  more  moments  of 
delay,  they  were  ready  to  start,  when 
INIay  called  out, 

“Stop  one  moment,  John,  I have 
forgotten  something,”  and  running- 
hack  to  the  house,  she  returned  with 
her  calm,  pleasant  face,  sweet  as  ever. 

“ I had  almost  forgotten  the  blanket- 
shawl,  papa,  and  that  would  never  do, 
for  the  evening  air  is  cool  among  these 
mountain  regions  folding  it  up  care- 
fully, she  placed  it  affectionately  be- 
liind  her  father,  saying, 

‘ ‘ There,  papa,  that  is  a nice  soft 
cushion  to  lean  against. 

Flora  was  highly  amused  at  seeing 
Babette  trotting  by  the  side  of  the 
carriage,  leading  Nan  so  carefully, 
and  the  goat  exhibiting  her  pleasure 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  151 

by  a variety  of  funny  little  tricks 
which  she  had  learned  in  her  peasant’s 
home.  Embarked  in  the  boat  that 
was  ready  for  them,  they  seemed  a 
very  happy  party,  for  even  Mr.  Cas- 
tleton  could  not  withstand  the  influ- 
ence of  that  placid  lake,  the  snow-clad 
mountains,  or  the  charming  villages 
that  lay  embossed  in  rich  foliage  all 
along  its  borders ; but  more  than  all 
these  was  the  sweet  spirit  of  the  gen- 
tle daughter  watching  him  so  lovingly, 
and  determined  that  he  should  have  a 
delightful  day. 

Selecting  one  of  the  most  pleasant 
seats  in  the  boat,  she  arranged  his 
cushions,  and  then  seating  herself  by 
his  side,  commenced  tuning  her  guitar, 
and  asked, 

“What  will  you  have,  pajia?” 

“Just  what  you  jflease,  May,”  was 


152 


MAY  CASTLETON's  MISSION. 


the  answer.  And  in  the  sweetest 
manner,  she  sang  “ Sweet  Home,”  the 
song  which  all  hearts  love  in  foreign 
lands. 

Then  came  Hood’s  pretty  melody, 
“I  remember,  I remember,”  then 
Mrs.  Hemans’  “Messenger  Bird,”  and 
the  “ Better  Land.” 

John  looked  on  with  admiring  eyes, 
and  listening  ears ; Flora  ran  about 
the  deck  with  her  favorite,  and  papa’s 
spirits  were  quite  softened  in  the 
midst  of  all  these  pleasant  things. 

Stopping  on  the  borders  of  the  lake, 
the  party  went  on  shore,  and  what  was 
IMay’s  surprise  to  meet  the  compan}’^ 
from  the  parsonage,  who  had  heard 
of  their  excursion  from  Babette. 
Clemence  ran  up  to  them  with  warm 
expressions  of  delight. 

“ This  is  charming.  May ; we  were 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  153 


just  going  to  exjolore  one  of  these 
deep  ravines ; you  will  go  with  us  I 
ho]oe.” 

May  glanced  towards  her  father, 
saying,  “ This  day  is  entirel}^  papa’s, 
whatever  he  says  must  be  done.” 

“ If  Flora  will  stay  with  me,  I think 
I can  spare  you.  May.” 

“ Thank  you,  dear  papa ! I would 
like  to  see  this  deep  gorge.” 

Selecting  a shady  spot,  she  arranged 
his  cushions  against  a tree,  and  when 
fully  satisfied  that  he  Avas  comfortable, 
and  bringing  her  basket  of  lunch 
Avithin  his  reach,  she  kissed  him  af- 
fectionately, and  turning  to  John,  said, 
“ Mind,  John,  and  take  good  care 
of  your  master ; I hope  you  AA^on’t  be 
lonesome,  papa.” 

“I  haA^e  brought  my  book,  May; 
that  is  alAA^ays  company.” 


154 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Ascending  a high  hill,  they  looked 
down  upon  a deep  ravine,  so  covered 
with  brushwood,  that  they  could  not 
see  the  bottom. 

“ Does  any  one  ever  descend  that 
gorge,  Clemence  ?”  asked  May. 

“ Frequently  ; there  is  a path  down 
one  side,  among  the  rocks  close  to  the 
cascade.” 

“ Shall  we  try  it  ?”  said  Henry. 

“ I would  like  it  above  all  things,” 
was  May’s  reply,  and  led  by  Henry, 
while  Clemence  conducted  Ellen,  after 
great  difficulty,  and  many  little 
screams,  they  reached  the  bottom. 
Looking  upward,  they  could  scarcely 
realize  the  tremendous  height,  were  it 
not  that  a mountain  goat  perched  u^^on 
the  eminence  looked  like  a mere 
speck. 

Down  among  the  rocks,  came  turn* 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  155 

bling  the  waters  of  the  cascade ; and 
seating  themselves  in  the  solitude, 
they  listened  to  the  music  of  the  water- 
fall, soothed  and  quieted  by  the  sweet 
sounds. 

Their  return  was  by  another  passage 
which  wound  around  the  mountain, 
for  as  to  climbing  such  a steep  ascent, 
it  was  simply  impossible. 

During  their  absence,  Mr.  Castleton 
had  been  deeply  musing.  In  the 
midst  of  these  lovely  scenes,  so  favor- 
able to  meditation,  the  solemn  voice 
of  the  Spirit  had  been  preaching  silent 
sermons,  the  text  of  which  was  the 
sweet  life  of  his  long-suffering,  patient, 
loving  daughter.  IS’one  knew  but  the 
Father  above,  how  frequently  and  how 
deeply  these  voices  had  lately  whis- 
pered. He  had  resisted  many  solemn 
messages  from  the  pulpit,  many  deep 


156 


MAT  CASTLETON’S  MISSI05T. 


convictions  in  hours  of  bereavement, 
but  the  still,  small  voice  was  ever 
speaking-  now ; gently,  in  the  bright 
daylight,  but  deeply,  powerfully,  in 
the  dark  night  watches.  While  mus- 
ing thus,  the  party  returned. 

“ Here  we  are,  papa,”  said  May,  as 
she  seated  herself  by  her  father’s  side; 
“ I have  brought  you  such  charming- 
plants,  and  we  have  seen  such  gran- 
deur, papa ; but  we  are  tired  and  hun- 
gry,” and  throwing-  aside  her  flat,  she 
shook  out  her  dark  brown  ringlets; 
and  papa  looked  on  his  blooming 
daughter  with  admiring-  pride.  Open- 
ing her  basket.  May  proceeded  to  deal 
out  cold  chicken,  sandwiches,  and 
light  biscuit,  and  the  party  enjoyed 
the  refreshment  heartily. 

“ \Vhere  is  your  guitar.  May  ?” 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  157 

asked  Clemence,  “ we  must  have  some 
music.” 

And  ahvays  ready  to  oblige,  her 
voice,  accompanied  by  Clemence,  drew 
several  groups  of  peascints,  who  were 
tending-  their  flocks  near  bv. 

But  pleasure  must  end,  and  the  de- 
scending sun  warned  them  that  it  was 
time  to  return.  The  sail  home  was 
a merry  one,  for  the  whole  party  em- 
barked in  the  same  boat. 

The  next  morning,  papa  called  his 
daughter  to  his  sitting-room. 

“This  is  your  birth-day,  is  it  not, 
my  child  ?” 

“ Yes,  papa,  I am  eighteen  to  day.” 

“You  have  not  had  a very  happy 
life  for  these  last  feAv  years,  May.” 

^ “ It  is  just  what  my  Father  has 

ordered  for  me,  papa,  and  it  must 
therefore  be  the  very  best  for  me.” 

14 


158 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ You  liavc  had  a great  deal  to  try 
your  patience,  May,  but  it  never  gives 
way  with  your  father.” 

“ But  you  are  sick,  papa ; I try  to 
remember  that.” 

“ And  I have  remembered  you, 
daughter.” 

Cloino:  to  his  secretarv,  he  unlocked 
one  of  the  drawers,  and  taking  out  a 
small  case,  produced  her  mother’s 
miniature. 

“ This  is  your  birth-day  gift.  May ; 
I thought  that  you  would  like  it  better 
than  anything  else.” 

Looking  at  the  sweet  face,  May  said, 
“ I am  so  thankful,  papa,”  and  turn- 
in  a-  it  on  the  other  side,  her  pleasure 
was  doubled,  for  there  was  also  a min- 
iature of  her  father. 

“ How  in  the  world  did  you  contrive 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  159 


this  surprise,  papa,  here  away  among 
the  Swiss  mountains  ?” 

“ When  I was  in  Geneva,  I sat  for 
my  likeness,  and  left  your  mother’s 
miniature ; the  pictures  were  forwarded 
last  week.” 

May  was  a happy  girl  all  that  day, 
for  not  only  did  she  possess  this  sweet 
gift,  hut  her  father  seemed  so  different; 
there  was  certainly  something  going 
on  within  his  heart  that  was  making 
his  daughter  very  hopeful. 

Mr.  St.  Felix  was  a frequent  visitor 
at  the  cottage.  His  general  intelli- 
gence made  him  always  a welcome 
companion  to  Mr.  Castleton,  and  being 
also  a naturalist,  many  pleasant  hours 
of  social  intercourse  were  passed  by 
the  two  gentlemen.  He  never  forgot, 
however,  that  he  was  an  ambassador 
for  a heavenly  Master,  and  always 


160  MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 

contrived  to  turn  the  conversation  so 
modestly  and  naturally  into  a holy 
channel,  that  ^Ir.  Castleton  felt  after 
his  departure,  that  he  had  been  drawn 
upward  by  the  good  pastor.  It  is 
Saturday  evening,  and  Mr.  Castleton 
calls  May  to  his  side. 

“What  kind  of  seats  have  you  at 
church.  May  ?” 

“ Pretty  rough,  papa,”  was  the  an- 
swer, “but  if  you  wish  to  go,  John 
can  easily  take  down  one  of  our  com- 
fortable chairs,  and  some  of  the  cush- 
ions.” 

“ I think  that  I will  try  it  to-mor- 
row, May,  for  I am  tired  of  staying  at 
home  all  day  Sunday,  and  I am  sure 
that  I shall  hear  solid  sense  from  such 
a man  as  Mr.  St.  Felix.” 

The  pastor  was  not  only  surprised, 
but  delighted  to  see  Mr.  Castleton,  at 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  161 

an  early  hour,  taking  his  place  among 
the  humble  worshippers. 

May  was  as  bright  as  a sky-lark. 
Seating  her  father  near  the  pulpit, 
and  placing  the  cushions  under  his 
feet,  she  chose  a seat  near,  that  she 
might  enjoy  the  sight  of  her  father  in 
the  house  of  God. 

Clemence  played  skilfully  on  the 
organ  ; the  music  was  elevating,  the 
services  simple  and  touching,  and  the 
sermon  full  of  the  unction  of  a pure, 
scriptural  gospel. 

Earnestness  marked  the  delivery  of 
every  word,  and  its  closing  appeals 
sank  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  new 
worshipper. 

Two  or  three  times.  May  saw  her 
father’s  hand  steal  quietly  to  his  eyes, 
hastily  wiping  otf  a tear  that  would 
start ; but  when  the  concluding  hymn 

14  * 


162 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


was  a favorite  of  her  mother,  he  was 
deeply  affected,  and  bowed  his  head 
down  low  upon  his  hand.  Mr.  St.  Felix 
came  up  to  him  after  the  service,  to 
welcome  him  to  the  village  church. 

“ I shall  certainly  come  again,  my 
dear  sir,”  was  the  answer.  “ It  is  so 
pleasant  to  worship  among  these  plain, 
simple-hearted  Christians ; there  is 
none  of  that  mere  pomp  and  pretence 
here  that  has  so  disgusted  me  in  our 
city  churches.” 

Henry  and  Ellen  were  now  frequent 
visitors,  for  Mr.  Castleton  was  so  much 
better,  that  their  company  was  really 
desirable. 

ISIany  pleasant  evenings  did  they 
spend  together,  when  May,  with  her 
guitar,  Henry,  with  his  flute,  and 
Clemence  at  the  piano,  enlivened  the 
hours  with  their  music. 


RIDES  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  163 


After  an  hour’s  pleasant  intercourse 
in  the  sitting-room,  Mr.  St.  Felix  and 
Mr.  Castleton  would  often  join  the 
younger  party,  and  many  a look  of 
quiet  wonder  passed  between  Henry 
and  his  sister,  at  the  remarkable 
change  in  the  deportment  of  uncle 
Castleton. 

“ Chaeity  suffereth  long,  and 

IS  KIND.” 

Precious  words ! how  they  have 
guided  May  in  all  her  sweet  home 
ministry,  working  their  silent  wonders 
all  so  unconsciously  but  surely,  as 
they  were  melting  day  by  day  the  icy 
crust,  which  had  hitherto  enveloped 
her  father’s  heart. 

Henry  and  Ellen  are  returning 
home  after  one  of  these  j^leasant  visits. 

“ I was  reading  somewhere,”  said 


164 


MAY  CASTLETON  S MISSION. 


Henry,  to  liis  sister,  “ about  casting 
our  shadows  around  us,  Ellen ; I mean 
our  moral  shadows — What  would  you 
name  dear  May’s?” 

“ A sunbeam,  certainly,”  was  El- 
len’s reply,  “and  Uncle  Castleton’s  a 
vinegar-cruet,  or  a crab-apple  tree.” 

“ The  vinegar-cruet  is  certainly  be- 
coming mellow,  and  the  crab-apple  is 
undergoing  some  change,  I am  sure,” 
was  Henry’s  reply. 

“The  sunbeam  is  ripening  the 
fruit,”  said  Ellen,  with  a smile. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  CONTENT  OF  ST.  BEENAJRH. 

Me.  St.  Felix  has  come  to  spend 
the  evening  at  the  cottage.  Fortu- 
nately, Mr.  Castleton  is  in  one  of  his 
genial  moods. 

The  party  left  behind  at  the  parson- 
age are  in  a state  of  anxious  suspense, 
for  the  good  man  has  come  upon  a 
doubtful  errand.  An  excursion  to  the 
Convent  of  St.  Bernard  is  on  foot,  and 
the  pastor  is  anxious  that  May  should 
accompany  them. 

“ I have  come  to  make  one  request, 
my  good  friend,”  said  the  pastor. 

“And  what  is  that?”  was  the  reply, 

165 


166 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“for  I am  generall}’^  inclined  to  oblige 
you.” 

“ There  is  a party  about  to  set  off 
for  the  convent,”  said  Mr.  St.  Felix, 
“ and  I want  you  to  permit  May  to 
accompany  them.” 

“ Ascend  these  snowy  mountains, 
my  good  sir ! I am  afraid  that  would 
be  a dangerous  undertaking.” 

“ Aot  at  this  season,  I think.  They 
will  go  on  mules,  and  two  hardy 
mountaineers  will  accompany  them.” 
“But  what  shall  I do  without  May, 
my  good  friend  ?” 

“ Come,  and  make  me  a visit ; I 
shall  be  so  pleased  to  have  you,  for 
Mrs.  Hazleton  and  all  the  young  peo- 
ple are  going,  and  the  change  will  do 
you  good.” 

“ I am  almost  tempted  to  accept 
your  offer,  for  my  days  are  very  mo- 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  167 


notonous  in  this  little  cottage.”  And 
before  Mr.  St.  Felix  took  his  departure, 
consent  was  obtained,  and  he  found 
the  young  people  all  out  on  the  little 
balcon}^  awaiting  his  arrival. 

“ I have  been  successful,”  said  the 
good  man,  and  Henry  and  Ellen  re- 
ceived the  news  with  real  joy. 

•k  H'  V V ^ 

Warmly  clad,  and  mounted  upon 
sure-footed  mules,  the  party  set  off'  on 
their  journey. 

Followed  by  several  shepherd  dogs, 
and  full  of  excited  spirits,  they  com- 
menced the  ascent. 

Their  way  at  first  was  over  several 
miles  of  grassy  verdure,  and  among 
shepherds’  huts ; but  gradually,  by  the 
side  of  deep  ravines  and  mountain 
gorges,  which  seemed  of  terrific  depth 
viewed  from  clitfs  above. 


168 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Occasionally,  they  stopped  at  some 
of  the  hunters’  huts  to  refresh  them- 
selves ; and  the  first  night  of  their 
journey,  they  slept  beneath  the  roof 
of  a chamois  hunter. 

To  Henry,  who  was  fond  of  adven- 
ture, this  was  all  charming;  but  as 
they  approached  the  snowy  region,  the 
ladies  began  to  think  about  the  travel- 
ers who  had  been  buried  in  the  snow- 
drifts, of  driving  snow-storms,  treach- 
erous glaciers,  and  the  countless 
dangers  of  these  desolate  and  dreary 
regions. 

The  atmosphere,  too,  was  becoming 
intensely  cold,  and  all  were  glad  to 
draw  their  winter  wrappings  more 
closely  about  them. 

Their  guides,  however,  were  bold 
and  fearless,  and  the  cheerful  songs 
with  which  they  enlivened  the  jour- 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  169 


ney,  served  to  inspire  the  whole  party 
with  courage. 

The  grandeur  of  the  scenery  was 
now  overpowering ; whole  fields  of 
snow  and  ice  glittering  in  the  sun- 
beams, peak  after  peak  towering  up- 
ward, glowing  in  the  rosy  light  of  the 
sunset  hour. 

At  length,  in  the  distance  appeared 
the  dark  convent  walls  of  the  Hospice. 

It  was  the  vesper-hour,  and  as  they 
approached,  the  convent  bell  sounded 
solemnly  upon  the  cold  and  silent  air. 

The  guides  advanced  first,  and  ring- 
ing the  convent  bell,  a monk  appeared, 
clad  in  the  rough  garb  of  the  order, 
and  accompanied  by  several  of  the 
Alpine  dogs. 

The  hospitable  monk  gave  the  party 
a cheerful  welcome,  and  following 

15 


170 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Father  Anselm,  they  soon  found  them- 
selves in  the  parlor  of  the  Hospice. 
Stone  floors  looked  cheerless,  but  a 
glowing  fire  that  burned  in  the  fire- 
place sent  out  a ruddy  glow,  and  seat- 
ing themselves  around,  the  party  con- 
gratulated themselves  on  their  safe 
arrival. 

They  were  very  cold  and  weary, 
and  when  invited  to  the  refectory  to 
partake  of  the  best  cheer  that  could 
lie  had,  a mountain  appetite  prepared 
them  all  to  do  justice  to  the  smoking 
l iands  placed  before  them. 

Father  Anselm  joined  them  in  the 
parlor,  and  entertained  them  all  the 
evening,  with  accounts  of  travelers 
who  had  been  taken  out  of  the  snow- 
drifts by  the  faithful  dogs  trained  for 
the  purpose. 

One  of  these  animals  was  seated  by 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  171 

his  side  while  relating  these  stories, 
and  with  his  intelligent  face  seemed 
as  if  he  actually  understood  all  that 
w'as  said. 

“ Leo  has  saved  fifteen  lives,”  said 
the  monk,  patting  the  dog  upon  the 
head,  “ one  poor  little  fellow  whom  you 
will  see.  About  two  years  ago,  a party 
of  gentlemen  Avere  overtaken  by  a 
dreadful  snow-storm ; the  dogs  Avere  out 
all  night,  and  succeeded  in  bringing  in 
this  one  little  boy  alive ; all  the  rest 
had  perished.  He  Avas  about  six  years 
old;  all  that  he  could  tell  us,  Avas,  that 
his  mamma  lived  in  a beautiful  house, 
near  a large  church,  Avith  a grand 
organ,  and  a great  bell ; that  his  papa 
Avas  an  officer,  and  that  he  Avas  named 
Henry  Moreland;  a gentleman  named 
Bartlett  was  in  the  company.  We 
succeeded  in  obtaining  the  bodies,  and 


172 


MAY  CASTLRTON’S  MISSION. 


placed  them  in  the  morgue  (dead- 
house)  of  the  convent;  hut  we  could 
obtain  no  further  clue  that  might  lead 
us  to  his  home,  excepting  that  in  one 
of  the  gentlemen’s  coat-pockets  we 
found  an  English  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  and  written  within  it,  “ Lucy 
Moreland,  to  her  Husband.’  ” 

“ Can  we  see  the  little  boy?”  asked 
Mrs.  Hazleton. 

Father  Anselm  left  the  room,  and 
soon  returned,  leading  in  a very  lovely 
boy,  about  eight  years  old. 

Little  Henry  was  a bright,  intelli- 
gent child,  with  an  English  complex- 
ion. He  seemed  very  fond  of  Father 
Anselm,  who  had  acted  the  part  of  a 
kind  parent  to  the  orphan.  Henry 
had  hiarned  to  read  since  he  had  been 
in  the  convent,  and  being  fond  of  mu- 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  173 


sic,  he  was  taking  lessons  on  the  organ 
also. 

. “ He  is  a staunch  little  Protestant,” 
said  the  monk,  smiling,  “ for  although 
he  goes  to  chapel  with  us,  he  says  his 
own  prayers,  and  no  others,  and  those 
are  Avhat  his  mother  taught  him.” 

The  little  fellow  was  seated  by  Leo’s 
side,  with  his  arm  around  the  dog’s 
shaggy  neck,  for  the  boy  and  the  dog 
were  great  friends. 

“ To  what  nation  do  you  think  he 
i belongs  ?”  asked  the  monk,  addressing 
Mrs.  Hazleton. 

“ I should  say  that  he  is  an  English 
child,  without  doubt,”  was  the  reply. 
“ His  bright  complexion,  his  name, 
his  Protestant  education,  the  name  of 
the  gentleman  in  company,  and  the 
Book  of  Common  Prayer  would  lead 
one  to  think  so.” 


174 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION?. 


“ I have  thought  the  same,”  said 
Father  Anselm  ; “ we  have  supposed 
that  the  party  may  have  been  travel- 
ing for  health ; I have  sent  advertise- 
ments to  the  principal  cities  of  Europe 
where  travelers  generally  stop.” 

“ Have  you  ever  advertised  in  Eng- 
lish papers,  Father?” 

“ I have  not,  madam ; but  perhaps 
that  might  lead  to  the  discovery  of  his 
friends ; we  all  love  the  boy,  but  I 
would  spare  no  pains  to  restore  such  a 
child  to  his  mother.” 

“ Do  not  delay.  Father  Anselm,  I 
think  that  London  Newspapers  would 
be  the  best.” 

The  evening  passed  pleasantly  away, 
and  at  an  early  hour,  the  guests  were 
conducted  to  their  rooms,  where  warm 
fires  had  been  kindled  for  their  com- 
fort. 


THE  COXLENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  175 

The  rooms  were  such  as  were  occu- 
pied by  the  monks  themselves  ; small 
bedsteads,  a table,  with  stone  pitcher 
and  basin,  and  one  chair,  were  all  the 
furniture,  with  the  exception  of  a cru- 
cifix fiistened  to  the  wall ; plenty  of 
warm  bed-clothes  had  been  provided, 
and  they  retired  to  their  rest  with 
feeling  of  security  and  comfort  greatly 
enhanced  by  the  sense  of  dreariness 
and  cold  Avithout, 

The  whistling  of  the  bleak  winds 
through  the  long,  dark  passages  of  the 
convent,  Avas  keen  as  Avinter  blasts  are 
beloAV,  although  it  Avas  noAV  the  month 
of  August. 

They  had  not  been  long  asleep, 
before  the  convent-bell  tolled  the  mid- 
night hour. 

Henry’s  curiosity  *Avas  so  Avide 
aAvake,  that  hurrying  on  his  clothes. 


176 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


and  wrapping  himself  in  his  warm 
over-coat  and  furs,  he  sallied  out  into 
the  passage,  surprised  to  find  Cousin 
iNIay  equally  anxious  to  witness  a 
midnight  mass  at  St.  Bernard. 

One  or  two  dim  lights  gleamed 
faintly  in  the  corridors,  scarcely  ren- 
dering darkness  visible.  From  every 
quarter  the  gliding  figures  of  the 
monks  in  their  dark  robes,  and  cowls 
drawn  over  their  heads,  all  tending  in 
the  same  direction,  guided  our  young 
people  to  the  chapel. 

Tlie  midnight  hour,  the  dim  lights, 
the  solemn  music,  the  voice  of  the 
presiding  priest,  and  the  aspect  of  the 
monks,  all  took  powerful  hold  upon 
the  imagination  of  the  young  listen- 
ers ; yet  May  asked  herself  as  she 
listened,  whether  such  a midnight 
service  is  ever  recorded,  in  which  the 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  177 


]\Iaster  had  taken  a part,  and  the  an- 
swer came  quickly,  that  once  we  find 
him  praying  all  night  alone  upon  the 
mountain  top,  and  again  in  the  garden 
of  Gethsemane ; hut  he  kept  these 
midnight  watches,  that  we  might  en- 
joy a cheerful,  sunny  intercourse  with 
the  father  of  our  spirits.  He  passed 
through  these  dark  hours  that  we 
might  “sit  in  heavenl}^  places  in  Christ 
Jesus.”  He  endured  the  gloom,  that 
we  might  have  the  sunshine. 

Thus  mused  our  young  Protestant, 
and  both  returned  to  their  rooms. 
Again  early  in  the  morning  was  heard 
the  convent-bell  ringing  to  Matins. 

After  breakfast.  Father  Anselm  led 
them  through  the  convent,  and  un- 
locking a large  door,  conducted  them 
into  the  Morgue.  They  were  not  j)re- 
pared  for  the  sight  which  presented 


178 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


itself ; for  there  in  grim  rows  stood  up 
the  rigid  figures  of  numbers  who  had 
lost  their  lives  on  the  mountains,  sev- 
eral monks  who  had  died  a natural 
death,  and  several  dogs  also. 

On  the  collar  of  one  it  was  recorded 
that  he  had  saved  the  lives  of  twenty 
travelers. 

“How  is  this?”  inquired  Henry, 
“ do  you  never  bury  the  dead?” 

“ There  is  no  need,”  was  the  reply  ; 
“ there  is  no  decomposition  in  an 
atmosphere  like  this ; the  muscle 
shrivels  gradually  away.” 

Having  seen  all  that  was  really  in- 
teresting, the  party  spoke  of  returning, 
but  Father  Anselm  opposed  it,  “You 
must  not  think  of  such  a thing,” 
said  he,  “ there  are  signs  of  a coming 
storm.” 


THE  CONVENT  OP  ST.  BERNARD.  179 


“ What  signs  ?”  inquired  Henry, 
“ I see  nothing.” 

The  monk  smiled  as  he  led  them 
into  the  convent  yard.  There  stood  a 
number  of  dogs,  all  looking  anxiously 
.at  the  clouds,  and  making  peculiar 
noises,  such  as  the  monks  had  learned 
I to  understand. 

“ When  we  hear  that,  no  one  must 
I venture  to  travel,”  said  the  Father. 

Before  night,  the  wind  arose,  first 
in  deep  low  moans ; then  the  clouds 
thickened,  and  the  snow  began  to  fall. 
In  the  night,  the  Avind  bleAv  a hurri- 
! cane ; once  our  trar^elers  ventured  to 
look  out,  but  tlie  air  was  filled  with 
; driving  snow  ; the  dogs  with  cloaks 
! lashed  upon  their  backs,  and  flasks  of 
wine  around  their  necks ; and  the 
monks,  with  their  long  poles,  clad  in 
their  heaviest  cloaks,  with  covered 


180  MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 

lanterns  in  tlieir  hands  were  ready  to 
dare  the  terrific  storm. 

Of  such  a storm,  the  travelers  had 
never  conceived,  and  when  they  saw 
these  benevolent  men  sallying  forth, 
“ Surely,”  they  said,  “ here  is  the 
spirit  of  the  master,  who  gave  him- 
self to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost.” 

It  was  impossible  to  sleep.  The 
howling  of  the  tempest  was  fearful, 
and  towards  morning  one  of  the  dogs 
came  in,  following  two  of  the  monks, 
■who  were  carrying  a man  found  by 
Leo,  buried  in  the  snow.  He  was 
still  alive,  and  after  proper  remedies 
was  entirely  restored. 

It  was  a hunter,  who  had  lost  his 
v/ay,  and  who  thus  had  been  found  by 
the  benevolent  monks  of  St.  Bernard. 
“What  is  to  be  done?”  said  Mrs. 


THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  BERNARD.  181 

Hazleton  ; “ it  is  impossible  to  travel 
after  such  a storm.” 

“ You  must  wait  a few  days,”  said 
Father  Anselm ; “we  will  go  out,  and 
help  to  make  a road,  but  it  would  be 
dangerous  now.” 

May  looked  distressed.  “ What 
will  papa  think  ?” 

“ The  people  below  know  all  about 
these  mountains,  and  will  comfort 
him,  and  beside  all  this,  there  may  be 
storms  up  here,  and  none  whatever 
below.” 

On  the  next  day,  a large  number  of 
the  monks  sallied  out  with  large 
wooden  spades,  and  commenced  the 
work  of  throwing  aside  the  banks  of 
snow. 

For  two  days,  the  work  continued, 
and  at  length,  it  was  pronounced  pos- 
sible to  travel. 


16 


182 


MAY  CASTLETOY’S  MISSION. 


Father  Anselm,  wlio  knew  the  way, 
offered  to  accompany  them  until  they 
readied  a place  of  safety. 

After  many  thanks  to  the  kind  oc- 
cupants of  the  Hospice,  and  donations 
for  lost  travelers,  the  visitors  started, 
first  having  obtained  all  the  informa- 
tion possible  concerning  little  Henry, 
for  Mrs.  Hazleton  was  strongly  in- 
clined to  believe  that  he  might  yet  be 
restored  to  his  mother. 

Many  a floundering  step  did  the 
poor  mules  have  to  take  among  the 
snow-drifts,  but  so  much  confidence 
did  all  repose  in  the  knowledge  and 
kindness  of  Father  Anselm,  that  they 
learned  at  length  to  laugh  at  these 
adventures,  clad  as  they  were  in  heavy 
winter  attire,  and  fully  protected  from 
the  piercing  cold.  Having  reached 
the  snow-boundary,  the  good  monk 


THE  CONVENT  OF  &T.  BERNARD.  183 

assured  them  that  there  was  no  more 
danger,  and  bade  them  “God  speed” 
on  their  way. 

It  had  been  a thrilling  adventure, 
and  when  they  found  themselves  once 
more  in  the  region  of  green  verdure 
and  shepherds’  huts,  the  whole  com- 
pany felt  very  much  like  clapping 
their  hands  with  joy. 

They  had  learned  “ Le  Ranz  des 
Vaches,”  and  in  sight  of  their  Swiss 
home,  merrily  did  they  all  join  in 
singing  this  inspiring  mountaineer’s 
song. 

In  sight  of  the  parsonage,  May  per- 
ceived that  Mr.  St.  Felix  and  her 
father  had  been  attracted  by  the  music, 
and  were  both  ready  to  welcome  them 
home. 

“ God  be  thanked !”  said  Mr.  Cas- 
tleton,  as  he  folded  May  in  his  arms, 


184 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ Where  have  you  been  so  long,  my 
daughter  ?”  And  May,  hastening  into 
the  parsonage,  related  the  adventures 
of  the  last  few  days. 

“We  must  send  them  something 
for  weary  travelers,”  said  her  father; 
“theirs  is  a noble  work.” 

“ That  is  just  what  I thought  would 
be  proper,”  said  Mrs.  Hazleton. 

“ I will  see  that  it  reaches  them 
safely,”  said  the  pastor,  “ for  I have 
sent  such  contributions  before.” 
Taking  leave  of  the  pastor.  May 
and  her  father  returned  to  the  cottage, 
where  they  were  welcomed  warmly  by 
John  and  Babette. 


CHAPTER  XII, 

THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK. 

They  are  tlie  same  all  the  world 
over,  the  path  of  loveliness,  devotion, 
and  love,  and  here,  in  this  quiet  Swiss 
village.  May  had  found  God’s  dear 
people,  so  separated  from  the  world  in 
this  sweet  seclusion,  that  she  often 
felt  as  if  she  could  spend  years,  in- 
stead of  months  in  this  mountain 
home.  She  had  read  in  her  Sunday- 
school  library  hooks,  of  the  faith  and 
love  of  Oberlin  and  K^etf,  and  here,  in 
this  humble  village,  she  was  conver- 
sant daily  with  a lovely  representation 

of  those  good  and  holy  men. 

16* 


185 


186 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


It  was  a growing  time  for  our  young 
Christian ; shut  out  so  wholly  from  the 
gay  world,  and  under  the  care  of  such 
a shepherd. 

Always  busy  among  his  flock,  Pas- 
tor St.  Felix  is  either  visiting  in  their 
lowly  cottages,  by  their  sick-beds, 
among  the  dying,  or  in  the  hours  of 
social  intercourse  obtaining  intimate 
acquaintance  with  his  people,  that  in 
the  Sabbath  services,  he  may  aim  a 
sure  mark  at  what  he  has  seen  of  their 
daily  life. 

Schools  among  the  poor,  missions 
among  the  more  distant  mountaineers, 
little  societies  where  each  one  has  his 
own  field  of  labor,  his  parish  resem- 
bled a busy  hive  where  there  were  no 
drones. 

One  of  the  most  active  and  devoted 
was  his  daughter,  Clemence. 


THE  rOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  187 


“ Always  busy  !”  said  Mrs.  Hazle- 
ton, as  she  stepped  into  her  little 
kitchen,  where  Clemence  was  actively 
engaged  over  the  fire.  “ What  are 
you  doing  now?” 

“ I am  making  some  gruel  for  neigh- 
bor Lescure ; she  is  very  sick,  and  has 
no  one  near  her  but  her  little  children, 
so  I make  her  a bowl  every  morning ; 
and  then  here  is  some  soup  for  old 
Lezitte,  and  some  for  Margot,  two 
very  old  women,  who  come  twice  a 
week.” 

“ Can’t  I help  you  sometimes,  Clem- 
ence ? I saw  you  making  some  little 
garments  yesterday,  and  as  you  have 
no  young  sisters,  I suppose  that  they 
are  for  the  poor.” 

‘‘You  are  very  good.  Madam,”  an- 
swered Clemence,  “ and  I gladly  accept 


188  MAY  castleton’s  biission. 

of  3^our  offer,  for  I have  a large  quan- 
tity to  make  for  our  little  orphans.” 

“ Where  do  they  live,  Clemence  ?” 

“ About  a mile  from  here.  Madam  ; 
papa  has  a home  for  such  poor  chil- 
dren, and  it  is  quite  a wonder  to  see 
how  it  is  supported;  sometimes  we 
wonder  where  the  food  and  clothing 
are  to  come  from,  when  suddenly, 
there  will  be  a large  supply,  for  the 
neighboring  villages  are  all  inter- 
ested.” 

]\Irs.  Hazleton  and  Ellen  were 
ashamed  to  spend  so  much  time  in 
mere  wandering  among  wild  scenery, 
and  they  both  set  to  work  earnestly  to 
help  Clemence  in  her  good  works. 
Thus  the  benevolent  spirit  of  the  par- 
sonage was  reacting  upon  the  strangers 
tarrying  at  the  board. 

“ Where  did  you  learn  how  to  do  so 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  189 

many  things,  Clemence?”  asked  Mrs. 
Hazleton. 

“ I had  one  of  the  best  of  mothers,” 
was  the  answer.  “ From  my  earliest 
years,  she  taught  me  to  be  useful ; she 
was  a real  wife  to  my  dear  father,  and 
I try  as  much  as  I can  to  follow  her 
blessed  example.” 

“ How  long  since  you  lost  her,  Clem- 
ence?” 

“ About  three  years.  Madam ; the 
house  has  never  been  the  same  since ; 
but  we  know  that  she  is  among  the 
blessed  ones,  and  we  are  sure,  if  we 
are  faithful,  that  Ave  shall  go  to  her.” 

“Is  that  her  likeness,  Clemence?” 
asked  the  lady,  pointing  to  a picture 
hanging  upon  the  Avail. 

“ Yes,  Madam,  and  it  is  an  excellent 
likeness;  it  Avas  painted  by  a young 


190  MaY  castleton’s  mission. 

artist,  who  stayed  with  us  one  sum- 
mer.” 

Mrs.  Hazleton  looked  admiringly 
at  the  saintly  face,  for  there  were  traits 
of  holy,  heavenly  meekness  in  every 
speaking  feature. 

There  was  one  member  of  the  fam- 
ily, who  had  often  excited  Mrs.  Hazle- 
ton’s curiosity  ; a little  girl  named 
Marie,  aged  about  thirteen.  She  was 
not  a relative,  but  the  attachment 
which  she  manifested  towards  Clem- 
ence  and  her  father,  often  interested 
the  lady,  so  that  one  day,  she  inquired 
who  she  was. 

“ Hers  is  a sad  story,”  replied  the 
young  girl ; “ about  two  years  ago, 
there  happened  one  of  those  dreadful 
calamities  so  destructive  among  our 
villages.  About  two  miles  from  here, 
there  was  the  village  of  St.  L , 


Tire  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  191 

lying  at  tlie  foot  of  one  of  the  highest 
mountains ; there  had  been  tremen- 
dous falls  of  snow,  in  the  winter  pre- 
vious, and  in  the  spring,  there  were 
indications  of  an  api^roaching  ava- 
lanche. Some  of  the  inhabitants  took 
warning,  and  departed  in  time ; others 
having  no  means  of  leaving,  remained, 
and  in  the  night,  the  fearful  avalanche 
descended,  burying  nearly  the  whole 
village  beneath  its  crushing  weight.” 

“ It  seems  very  foolish  that  any 
should  have  remained,  who  had  the 
warning.” 

“ Yes,  Madam  ; so  it  seems  to  you, 
but  they  were  a very  poor  people ; the 
most  of  them  Roman  Catholics,  and 
they  could  do  nothing  else.  Papa 
heard  of  the  calamity,  and  went  over 
directly  to  the  scene  of  distress.  A 
number  were  taken  out  alive,  but  very 


192 


MAY  CASTLETOX’S  MISSION. 


much  injured ; among  them  was  this 
poor  desolate  child,  Marie  Lamar.  She 
had  no  parents,  no  relatives,  no  friends. 
She  clung  to  papa,  who  aided  in  getting 
her  out  of  the  ruined  hut ; he  brought 
her  home,  and  said,  ‘ Clemence,  do  you 
want  a sister?’  What  could  I do, 
Madam,  but  just  open  my  heart  and 
take  her  in  ? and  that  is  what  we  did. 
Madam.  She  was  a very  devoted 
little  Romanist  when  she  first  came, 
but  that  made  no  difference  to  papa ; 
he  kept  Marie,  and  it  was  then  that 
he  opened  the  ‘ Orphans’  Home,’  where 
he  labored  for  weeks  to  provide  a 
shelter  for  the  homeless.  Several  were 
the  children  of  Romanists.  Marie 
counted  her  beads  and  prayed  to  the 
Virgin  for  the  first  year,  but  she  has 
found  out  that  there  is  but  one  Medi- 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  193 


ator  between  God  and  man,  the  man 
Christ  Jesus,  and  in  him  she  trusts.” 
“She  seems  so  very  fond  of  your 
papa,  Clemence.” 

“ Yes  ; Marie  is  a loving  little  child, 
and  a very  great  help  to  me  in  many 
of  my  plans.” 

“ Well,  Clemence ! I shall  learn 
some  good  lessons  here  among  you,  I 
am  sure,  you  are  all  so  earnest  and 
active  in  doing  good.” 

Very  improving  were  the  conversa- 
tions often  held  by  the  good  pastor 
with  his  guests.  He  was  one  of  those 
bright  spirits,  whose  cheerful  piety 
looked  forward  to  the  glorious  future 
with  undoubting  faith,  and  Mrs.  Ha- 
zleton used  to  listen  to  his  pictures  of 
Millenial  blessedness,  with  equal  won- 
der and  delight,  for  it  was  a subject 

17 


194 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


on  wliicli  she  had  seldom  thought 
hefore. 

“ Do  you  really  expect  this  earth  to 
be  the  scene  of  the  Saviour’s  tri- 
umphs?” asked  the  lady. 

“Undoubtedly,  my  dear  Madam; 
here  where  he  has  suffered  such  igno- 
miny, will  he  come  to  reign ; for  do 
not  the  Scriptures  say  that  ‘ in  like 
manner  as  the  disciples  saw  him  as- 
cend, so  shall  he  descend  to  this 
earth?’  ” 

“ Do  you  suppose  that  we  shall  see 
him,  Mr.  St.  Felix?” 

“ Yes ! every  eye  shall  see  him,  and 
they  v/ho  pierced  him,  shall  wail  be- 
cause of  him.” 

“Do  you  ever  dread  his  coming?” 
continued  the  lady. 

Mr.  St.  Felix  smiled,  as  he  replied, 

“ Dread  the  coming  of  my  best 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  195 

friend  ? Oh,  no ! I look  and  long  for 
liis  appearing,  for  only  that  will  right 
all  the  wrong  in  this  sin-cursed  Avorld.” 

Mrs.  Hazleton  mused  seriously  on 
all  that  she  saw  and  heard  among 
these  earnest,  simple-hearted  Chris- 
tians; she  will  not  easily  forget  the 
precious  teachings  of  this  humble 
parsonage.  Ellen  often  contrasted  her 
fruitless  life  with  the  earnest  working 
of  Clemence  St.  Eelix;  and  Henry, 
too,  was  beginning  to  take  new  views 
of  life  and  its  responsibilities. 

May  has  been  on  a visit  to  the  par- 
sonage, for  Mr.  Castleton  is  much 
more  willing  to  spare  her  now  than 
formerly.  They  are  to  have  an  early 
tea,  and  Clemence,  Henry  and  Ellen 
are  to  accompany  her  home.  The 
good  pastor  has  been  standing  in  the 


196  MAY  castleton’s  mission, 

balcony  for  some  minutes,  and  coming 
into  the  family-room,  he  says, 

“ My  children,  we  shall  have  a 
storm ; the  clouds  are  very  heavy,  and 
I think  it  will  be  severe.” 

He  proved  a true  prophet,  for  in 
less  than  an  hour,  the  rain  descended 
in  torrents,  lightning  flashed,  and 
thunder  roared  echoing  from  mountain 
to  mountain  in  long-continued  rever- 
berations. It  lasted  for  about  two 
hours,  when  the  pastor,  coming  in, 
said, 

“ Come  here,  May,  I have  something 
to  show  you,”  and  leading  her  out  to 
the  balcony,  from  which  there  was  a 
full  view  of  the  majestic  mountains, 
he  pointed  to  a splendid  rainbow  arch- 
ing the  heavens  just  before  them. 

“Do  you  know.  May,  of  what  the 
rainbow  reminds  me  most?” 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  197 

“ I liave  heard  it  spoken  of  in  many 
ways,  sir ; I do  not  know  to  Avhich  you 
now  allude.” 

“It  is  like  the  church  of  our  Re- 
deemer, my  child.” 

“ How  is  that,  Mr.  St.  Felix?” 

“It  is  composed  of  many  distinct 
colors,  you  see,  hut  all  come  from  one 
pure  ray  of  light ; indeed,  the  loA^ely 
hues  are  actually  but  one.” 

May’s  face  brightened  as  she  caught 
the  beautiful  idea. 

“ TAvin  colors,  but  one  ray,”  she  re- 
plied ; “ some  are  like  the  gloAAung 
crimson ; I suppose  that  must  be  like 
those  AAdio  are  fond  of  imposing  cere- 
monies ; some  are  like  fresh,  liAung 
green,  that  must  be  such  as  are  formed 
for  action,  for  green  is  so  refreshing ; 
some  are  like  the  orange  ray,  I suppose 
that  must  be  the  martyrs ; some  are 


198  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

like  the  sober  indigo,  deep,  thoughtful, 
meditative,  like  the  old  Puritans, 
some  clear  heavenly  blue,  that  must 
embrace  all  who  are  nearest  heaven ; 
and  some  primitive,  modest  violet,  I 
suppose  that  must  be  those  who  are 
all  spirit,  and  no  form, — but  I have  no 
likeness  for  the  yellow,” 

The  good  pastor  smiled.  “You 
have  caught  my  idea,  my  child,  but 
there  is  more  of  poetry  in  it  than  I 
had  thought.  I had  just  fancied  that 
the  colors  were  like  the  various  sects 
of  the  Church  of  Christ,  but  all  hav- 
ine:  one  common  source,  divine  and 
holy  light.  But  you  are  puzzled.  May, 
about  the  yellow.  May  it  not  embrace 
those  hidden  ones,  known  and  loved 
by  the  great  Master,  but  all  unknown 
to  us  ?” 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK  199 


“But  what  will  the  church  he  in  the 
Millenial  clays,  Mr,  St.  Felix?” 

“ It  will  he  a rainbow  then,  my  clear; 
no  prism  of  human  frailty  will  sepa- 
rate the  congregated  rays  of  light,  for 
then  the  Saviour’s  prayer  will  he  ac- 
complished— ‘ That  they  all  may  he 
one ; as  thou,  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I 
in  thee,  that  they  also  may  he  one  in 
us.” 

“ AYhat  will  that  one  he  ?”  inquired 
May. 

“ Once  more,  the  unbroken  church 
of  the  Redeemer,  such  as  existed  when 
the  disciples  were  first  called  Chris- 
tians.” 

“ What  a blessed  clay !”  said  May, 
her  whole  face  kindling  with  delight, 
“ hut  how  different  now  !” 

“Yes,  my  child,  but  it  is  sweet  to 
know  that  all  over  this  earth  are  to  he 


200  MAY  castleton’s  missioit. 

found  the  dear  members  of  that  invis- 
ible spiritual  church,  in  every  denom- 
ination, Wherever  the  spirit  of  the 
Master  dAvells,  there  is  one  of  that 
holy  communion,” 

“ I never  think  of  sects  in  this  dear 
valley,”  said  May ; “ there  is  so  much 
of  harmony  and  love,  that  it  seems  in 
the  little  church,  as  if  I were  really 
in  that  upper  room  in  Jerusalem, 
where  the  first  Christians  waited  for 
the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,” 

“ That  is  what  I try  to  realize  all 
the  time.  May,  for  the  day  is  coming 
when  love  for  the  Master  will  utterly 
consume  our  walls  of  partition,” 

“ I shall  never  look  at  the  rainbow 
again,”  said  May,  “without  thinking 
of  the  glory  of  the  church  when  it  will 
be  without  spot  or  blemish,  itself  a 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  201 

fountain  of  light  and  love,  no  more  to 
be  divided.” 

“ It  will  be  so  when  the  Master 
comes,  my  child ; let  us  pray  for  its 
spirit  now,  for  if  we  only  have  that, 
in  the  midst  of  divisions,  we  may  still 
feel  that  we  are  one  with  Jesus  our 
Lord.” 

^ S:  sis 

But  the  summer  months  were  pass- 
ing rapidly,  and  our  travelers  began  to 
talk  of  turning  homeward.  With  that 
one  word  “ home  ” came  memories  of 
all  that  was  most  dear  and  precious 
here  below. 

They  could  scarcely  have  believed 
that  so  much  regret  should  have  min- 
gled with  the  pleasure  of  return,  after 
so  long  an  absence  ; but  warm  friend- 
ships had  been  formed  among  these 
Swiss  Christians,  and  each  day  the 


202 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


sadness  increased,  as  they  thought  it 
most  likely  that  they  should  see  these 
Alpine  peaks,  this  placid  lake,  this 
peaceful  village,  the  lowly  church  of 
the  descendants  of  the  Waldenses  no 
more. 

Mr.  St.  Felix  had  become  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  master  of  the  mountain 
cottage ; many  hours  of  confidential 
intercourse  had  they  passed  together, 
and  doubtless,  in  the  records  of  eter- 
nity, the  fruits  of  this  communion 
will  appear. 

The  parting  evening  had  come,  and 
all  assembled  at  the  parsonage ; touch- 
ing hymns,  a faithful  pastoral  address, 
a warm,  fervent  prayer,  and  the 
friends  bade  a tearful,  sad,  “ good 
night.” 

Gifts  had  been  exchanged,  promises 
of  correspondence  made,  and  the  Cas- 


THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  FLOCK.  203 


fl  ;tons  turned  sadly  away,  to  meet 
once  more  in  the  morning,  previous  to 
an  early  departure. 

Babette  Avas  very  tearful  on  parting 
with  the  family,  for  she  had  learned  to 
love  them  all ; and  since  Mr.  Castleton 
had  so  changed  his  conduct  towards 
May,  she  was  ready  to  extend  a warm 
hand  to  him  also. 

“ You  Avill  not  forget  us,”  said  the 
worthy  pastor,  as  he  saw  the  last  one  in 
the  carriage.  Clemence  and  Marie 
stood  on  the  porch  of  the  parsonage, 
watching  the  dei)arting  travelers. 
Strange  that  beings  who  had  been 
entire  strangers  six  months  before, 
should  feel  so  much  sorroAv  at  sepa- 
rating. 

May  waved  a last  farewell,  and  the 
carriage  drove  off',  leaving  the  occu- 
pants of  the  parsonage  to  tread  their 


204 


MAY  CASTLETOK’S  MISSION. 


pilgrim  way  alone,  and  bearing  the 
foreigners  rapidly  on  their  journey 
homeward. 

ISIay  glanced  sorrowfully  at  the 
lovel}^  scenery,  for  nothing  like  this 
romantic  country  could  be  seen  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  “Elms.”  As 
they  passed  the  village,  the  church- 
bells  were  ringing  for  some  religious 
service,  and  May  could  not  but  feel 
that  they  were  chiming  at  least  to  her, 
“ Farewell ! farewell !” 


CHAPTER  Xlll. 

MAT  H.iS  FOJJND  HER  MISSIOJy. 

Dueixg  all  their  voyage  across  the 
Atlantic,  the  memory  of  the  blessed, 
peaceful  village,  with  all  its  sweet  as- 
sociations, were  ever  present  with 
May ; and  on  many  a quiet  evening 
did  the  chimes  of  the  church-bell  come 
across  her  memory,  reviving  the  pic- 
ture of  the  silver-haired  pastor,  and 
his  gentle  daughter. 

]\Ir.  Castleton  loved  to  talk  to  May 
about  these  excellent  people,  and  re- 
marks dropped  almost  unwittingly 
showed  how  deep  were  the  impressions 
made  by  the  good  pastor.  One  even- 

18  205 


206 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


ing,  Mr,  Castleton  called  May  to  sit 
apart  from  all  the  rest,  as  he  had 
something  to  communicate, 

“ Have  you  not  observed,  my  child, 
that  I have  received  other  letters 
beside  your  brother’s,  in  our  long 
absence  ?” 

“ Yes,  papa ; I have  sometimes 
thought  that  I saw  a lady’s  hand  in 
many  of  them,  but  it  was  not  my 
business  to  ask.” 

“ That  is  true.  May,  and  now  the 
time  has  come  when  I must  give  you 
the  history  of  these  letters ; you  re- 
member your  cousin  Mary,  do  you 
not  ?” 

“Yes,  papa,  I have  always  loved 
her  very  much.” 

“Well ! my  daughter,  I have  known 
and  loved  her  from  my  youth,  but 
circumstances  separated  us  early  in 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  207 

life,  and  for  years  we  did  not  meet. 
Since  your  mother’s  death,  I have 
often  met  your  cousin.  May,  and  my 
affections  turn  strongly  toward  the 
friend  of  my  youth.  From  her  I have 
received  those  letters,  and  on  our  re- 
turn, I hope  to  welcome  her  to  our 
stri(5ken  home.” 

May  listened  quietly,  and  when  her 
father  had  concluded,  she  replied, 

“ If  it  Avill  promote  your  happiness, 
my  dear  father,  I have  not  a word  to 
say  in  opposition.  I know  my  duty 
too  well,  to  dictate  to  a parent.” 

“You  have  been  a most  devoted  and 
faithful  daughter.  May ; but  you  have 
been  deprived  of  many  of  the  enjoy- 
ments belonging  to  youth ; a mother 
would  relieve  you  of  many  of  these 
cares,  and  I hope  will  greatly  promote 
our  mutual  comfort.” 


208 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


“ I shall  love  her  for  your  sake, 
dear  papa,  hut  do  not  think  that  it  is 
any  hardship  for  me  to  wait  upon  you. 
It  makes  me  happy  to  see  what  a great 
improvement  there  is  in  you.” 

“ Do  you  know  who  has  been  my 
best  minister,  May  ?” 

“ Mr.  St.  Felix,  papa,  is  it  not'so?” 
]Mr.  Castleton  smiled,  as  he  replied, 
‘ There  was  one  before  him.  May ; my 
gentle  little  daughter  has  preached 
many  a sermon,  that  she  knew  nothing 
about,  to  her  impatient  father.” 

“ I did  not  mean  to  preach,  papa,” 
replied  the  daughter. 

“ The  silent  preaching  of  a holy  life, 
May,  so  full  of  patient  love  as  yours, 
has  been  the  most  powerful  messenger 
to  vour  father.” 

Tears  filled  May’s  eyes,  as,  taking 
her  father’s  hand,  she  said, 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  209 

“ I am  so  thankful,  papa,  for  all  I 
need  to  make  me  happy,  is  to  see  my 
dear  father  a Christian.” 

“You  are  a good  girl.  May ; if  I did 
not  think  that  your  cousin  Mary 
would  make  you  a kind  mother,  I 
should  never  bring  her  into  my  house ; 
but  I know  that  she  will  make  you 
happy.” 

Taking  her  father’s  arm,  they  re- 
turned to  the  company,  and  all  joined 
in  singing  the  song  of  “ Sweet  Home,” 
with  hearts  full  of  expectation,  for 
they  were  within  a few  days’  sail  of 
their  native  land. 

When  the  spires  of  Yew  York  re- 
ally appeared,  little  Flora  was  wild 
with  delight.  Landing  at  sun-down, 
a night’s  sojourn  in  the  city  was  a ne- 
cessit}^ ; but  by  the  first  train,  they 
started  with  joyful  spirits  for  their 
18» 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


i..O 

home.  With  what  eager  delight  they 
watched  for  the  first  familiar  object! 

“ There  ! there,  papa  !”  called  out 
May,  “ is  the  spire  of  our  own  dear 
church,”  and  as  they  fiew  along,  object 
after  object  crowded  upon  their  vision, 
filling  every  heart  with  unmingled 
happiness. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  the  sound  of 
the  village  bells  came  faintly  sounding 
for  some  evening  service. 

May  remembered  that  the  bells  w^ere 
rineino'  when  she  bade  farewell  to  the 
“Elms;”  joy-bells  to  some,  but  sad 
and  touching  to  the  party  in  the  car- 
riage. 

Aow  they  rang  again — only  the  or- 
dinary sound  of  the  church-bell  sum- 
moning the  worshippers  ; but  to  her, 
it  was  the  j .»yful  welcome  to  her  dear 
home ; and  with  it,  came  thoughts  of 


MAT  HAS  POUND  HER  MISSION.  211 

her  own  valued  pastor,  her  children 
in  the  Sahhath-school,  her  childhood’s 
friends,  her  brother,  and  even  the 
dumb  pets  of  the  household  came  in 
for  a share  in  the  joy  of  return. 

Papa,  too,  was  so  much  better,  and 
there  was  such  a softening  of  his  nat- 
ural asperities,  that  May  was  sure  a 
better  life  was  dawning  in  the  heart  of 
her  dear  parent. 

Seated  by  his  side,  holding  her 
father’s  hand,  she  could  not  keep  back 
the  tears  of  joy  that  would  fill  her 
eyes  as  memory  Avas  so  busy. 

“What  a blessed  return,  dear  papa !” 
said  his  daughter. 

“Yes,  my  child,  I trust  that  it  aamII 
prove  so,”  was  the  quiet  answer;  “we 
haAm  learned  a great  deal,  May,  among 
those  SAviss  mountains.” 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


212 

“Yes,  papa,  the  best  lessons  of  my 
life,  I am  very  sure.” 

“And  mine  too.  May;  you  have 
b-rought  back  a new  father,  I trust,  my 
love.” 

INIay  affectionately  kissed  her  father’s 
hand,  and  said,  “ We  shall  be  a happy 
family  now ; but  look  there,  papa ! 
There  is  dear  Miss  AVarren,  sitting  at 
her  Avindow,”  called  out  May,  as  she 
Avaved  her  handkerchief  out  of  the 
car-AAMndoAv,  in  her  innocent  joy  for- 
getting that  good  Miss  Warren  could 
not  possibly  recognize  faces  in  the  fly- 
ing cars  ; but  that  made  no  difference, 
for  Ma}'  felt  A^ery  much  like  Avaving 
her  hand  to  the  trees,  the  church-spire, 
the  children  by  the  road-side,  and 
every  dear  object  around  the  “ Elms.” 
Stopping  at  the  depot,  the  carriage 
AA'as  in  Avaiting ; and  coming  in  sight 


MAY  HAS  POUND  HER  MISSION.  213 

of  the  “ Elms,”  there  stood  Mrs. 
Lisle  on  the  piazza,  ready  to  receive 
the  travelers ; but  much  to  their  sur- 
prise, Edward,  too,  was  there,  for  they 
had  supposed  him  still  at  college. 

\ There  was  too  much  of  pleasure, 
however,  in  the  reunion,  to  ask  any 
questions  just  now,  and  Mr.  Castleton 
waited  until  a late  hour  before  retiring, 
to  make  inquiries. 

But  the  question  came  at  last,  and 
Edward  hung  his  head  as  he  replied, 

“ I have  been  suspended,  papa.” 
“For  what, my  son ? I hope  nothing 
disgraceful  has  occurred.” 

“ I did  not  keep  up  with  my  class, 
papa,  and  got  into  two  or  three  college 
scrapes ; that  is  all ; I am  only  sus- 
pended until  your  return.” 

“ I am  really  mortified,  Edward. 
You  are  old  enough  now  to  understand 


214  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

the  value  of  an  education ; if  you  go 
on  as  you  have  commenced,  you  will 
disgrace  your  name  yet,  I fear.” 

“ The  fellows  all  knew  that  I had 
plenty  of  money,  and  they  would  drag 
me  into  all  their  scrapes ; that  is  just 
the  truth.” 

“ I begin  to  think  that  May  was 
right,”  said  the  father ; “ you  have  had 
entirely  too  much  money ; if  you  are 
ever  to  be  a man,  it  must  be  stopped ; 
you  can  go  to  your  room,  sir ; I do  not 
wish  to  say  any  more  to  you  to-night.” 

Edward  sought  his  sister  in  his 
trouble ; after  so  long  an  absence,  it 
was  a sore  trial  to  have  incurred  his 
father’s  displeasure.  He  made  a full 
confession  of  all  his  follies,  and  May 
was  glad  that  it  disclosed  no  more  than 
yreakness,  and  promised  to  act  the 
part  of  peace-maker,  if  Edward  would 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  215 

only  turn  over  an  entirely  new  leaf  in 
his  life. 

Early  next  morning,  May  knocked 
at  her  father’s  room  door.  “ Please 
let  me  in,  papa,  I have  something  to 
say  to  you.” 

“ Come  in,  daughter,”  was  the  reply, 
as  Mr.  Castleton  opened  the  door. 

“ I am  so  troubled  about  Edward, 
papa;  it  seems  so  hard  that  there 
should  be  occasion  for  reproving  him, 
after  being  separated  so  long.” 

“Your  brother  must  be  taught  a 
lesson  that  he  will  remember,  May.” 

“ He  has  told  me  all,  papa;  he  seems 
to  feel  more  deeply  humbled  than  I 
have  ever  seen  him  before,  and  if  jmu 
will  only  forgive  him  this  time,  I am 
sure  that  he  will  do  better  in  future.” 
“ Send  him  up  to  me.  May,  I cannot 
resist  your  persuasions.” 


216 


M .vT  CASTLETON  S MISSION. 


An  hour’s  long  and  serious  conver- 
sation passed  between  the  father  and 
son,  and  May  had  the  happiness  to  see 
a perfect  reconciliation  produced  by 
her  good  offices. 

Sunshine  had  really  entered  the 
“Elms;”  the  long-closed  parlor  win- 
dows were  thrown  open,  and  sunbeams 
both  from  within  and  without,  lit  up 
the  family  mansion,  for  May  and  Flora 
were  skipping  about  everywhere,  with 
t]ieir  meny  voices  and  glad  songs. 
Bijou  was  the  same  bright  pet,  but 
Flora  was  quite  disappointed  when  she 
found  her  other  plaything,  a lamb  no 
more.  May  revelled  among  the  au- 
tumnal flowers,  praised  Mrs.  Lisle’s 
liouse-keeping,  and  distributed  her 
gifts  among  the  household  of  admiring 
servants. 

“ AVell,  John  !”  said  the  good  lady, 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  217 

“ what  has  come  over  Mr.  Castleton  ? 
he  is  not  the  same  man  at  all  that  he 
used  to  be.” 

“ The  dear  young  lady’s  sweet  pa- 
tience has  changed  the  cross  old  grum- 
bler into  one  of  the  kindest  of  fathers 
and  masters.” 

“ I don’t  wonder,  John,  for  many  a 
tear  have  I shed  alone,  when  I saw 
how  he  wounded  that  poor  dear 
child.” 

“While  we  were  in  Switzerland, 
there  was  a good  minister,  Mr.  St. 
Felix,  who  used  to  visit  master  tw^o  or 
three  times  a week ; they  were  very 
great  friends,  and  I do  believe  that  Mr. 
Castleton  is  trying  to  be  a real  Chris- 
tian, Mrs.  Lisle ; I have  not  heard  him 
swear  one  oath  for  months.” 

In  the  course  of  the  evening.  Miss 
Warren  called,  and  May  had  many 

19 


218 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION, 


questions  to  ask  about  the  Sunday- 
scholars,  and  her  poor  people. 

“ I shall  be  able  to  do  a great  deal 
more,  Miss  Warren,  for  papa  is  going 
to  bring  home  a new  mother,  and  then 
I shall  have  a great  deal  more  lei- 
sure.” 

“ That  will  be  delightful.  May,  for 
you  can  engage  in  these  good  works 
without  neglecting  home  duties  ; then 
you  have  been  faithful  in  your  heaven- 
ajipointed  mission,  my  dear ; now  you 
may  cultivate  a larger  field.” 

May’s  patience  was  often  tried  by 
brother  Edward’s  teasing  propensities, 
for  it  was  still  his  delight  to  play 
tricks  upon  his  sisters;  and  many  a 
practical  joke  was  good-naturedly  en- 
dured by  sister  May,  as  she  reasoned,, 
“ this  is  only  the  exidierance  of  young 
spirits ; I can  very  well  endure  it,  if 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  219 

Edward  only  learns  at  last  to  turn  all 
his  vivacity  and  energy  into  useful 
channels.” 

She  indulged  many  bright  hoj>es  for 
her  brother,  for  he  often  sought  op- 
portunities when  laying  aside  his 
frivolity,  he  would  talk  for  an  hour  at 
a time  about  the  future ; showing  that 
earnest  thought  was  beginning  its 
work  in  Edward’s  young  heart.  By 
degrees,  she  persuaded  him  to  give  up 
his  Sunday  rides,  his  unprofitable 
companions,  and  at  last,  wfitli  good 
resolutions,  she  had  the  happiness  of 
seeing  him  drive  off  with  papa  to 
college,  full  of  newly  dawning  plans. 

“ Don’t  be  afraid.  May,”  were  his 
last  words ; “ I am  resolved  to  break 
otf  with  all  my  old  companions,  and 
to  begin  my  studies  in  earnest ; I am 


220 


MAY  CASTLETON’s  MISSION. 


sixteen  now,  and  liawe  played  my  fun 
out ; good  bye,  dear  sister.” 

When  Mr.  Castleton  returned,  May 
was  made  liappy  by  hearing  his  ac- 
count of  Edward’s  hopeful  state  of 
mind ; she  kept  up  a faithful  corre- 
spondence with  him  that  strengthened 
him  ill  his  good  resolutions. 

In  a few  weeks,  her  father  departed 
to  bring  home  his  bride.  Mrs.  Lisle 
was  not  very  well  pleased  with  the 
idea  of  a new  mistress  ; but  May  suc- 
ceeded in  reconciling  her  to  the  change, 
by  describing  all  that  she  knew  of 
Cousin  jMary.  She  busied  herself  in 
arranging  everything  as  neatly  as  pos- 
sible, especially  her  father’s  room. 
AVhen  the  day  fixed  for  their  return 
arrived,  fresh  flowers  in  the  vases  on 
the  toilet-table,  and  a new  set  of  toilet 
and  dressing-table  mats  indicated  the 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  221 


tasteful  hand,  that  had  left  her  pretty 
gifts  of  love  to  welcome  her  parents. 

Towards  evening,  the  carriage  drove 
up,  and  May  and  Flora  were  awaiting 
their  coming. 

When  the  door  opened,  a very 
pleasant  lady,  past  the  days  of  youth, 
descended,  and  folding  May  in  her 
arms,  said, 

“ I am  prejiared  to  love  you,  not 
only  for  your  father’s  sake,  but  for 
your  own,  my  child,”  and  kissing  timid 
little  Flora,  who  stood  by,  they  entered 
the  house,  Avhere  Mrs.  Lisle  and  the 
servants  stood  waiting  to  receive  their 
mistress  in  the  hall. 

They  were  Avell-pleased  with  the 
kind,  loving  face  of  the  new  lady,  and 
all  day  long,  their  talk  was  about  the 
new  reign  at  the  “ Elms.”  May  soon 
found  that  she  could  love  good  Cousin 


19* 


009 


MAY  CASTLETON’S  MISSION. 


Mary,  for  she  was  all  that  could  be 
desired  in  one  who  was  to  fill  to  her  a 
mother’s  place. 

“ I have  heard  all  about  your  loving 
patience,  dear  May,”  said  the  good 
lady,  “ and  now  that  you  are  to  be  so 
much  relieved  of  your  attendance 
upon  your  father,  you  can  follow  the 
bent  of  your  own  inclinations,  in  your 
choice  of  a field  where  to  labor  for 
your  Master.” 

“ I have  leiirned,  dear  mamma,  in 
this  home  mission,  to  cross  my  will 
many  a time,  and  that  I may  serve 
God  as  faithfully  here  as  out  of  doors. 
I would  not  give  uj)  this  year’s  expe- 
rience on  any  account.” 

“ You  have  been  a great  blessing  to 
your  father.  May,  and  he  fully  appre- 
ciates all  your  patient  love.” 

“ I trust  that  I shall  never  forget 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  223 

my  duty  as  a daughter  and  sister, 
mamma;  home  is  woman’s  province, 
and  although  I am  very  glad  to  have 
some  one  to  share  these  cares,  I shall 
never  forget  these  dear  relatives  for 
any  duty  beyond  the  ‘ Elms.’  ” 

Henry  soon  took  his  departure  for 
the  metropolis,  for  life  was  now  to 
commence  in  earnest  with  the  young- 
man. 

“You  will  not  forget  your  cousin. 
May,”  was  one  of  his  last  injunctions, 
“ it  will  be  so  stupid  in  Yew  York, 
without  the  society  around  the 
‘Elms.’” 

“ I will  try  to  be  a faithful  friend, 
Henry,  but  you  must  learn  to  bear 
patiently  with  some  very  sober  let- 
ters.” 

“ Just  write  one  every  week.  May, 
and  I think  you  will  find  me  a most 


224  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

patient  reader ; I shall  run  down  about 
once  a month,  and  then  I shall  always 
expect  a good  share  of  your  time,  and 
some  of  your  sweetest  music ; by  the 
way.  May,  how  do  you  like  your  new 
step-mother?” 

“ Very  much  indeed,  Henry  ; she  is 
a most  excellent  person,  devoted  to 
papa,  kind  and  loving  to  both  of  us.” 

“ If  she  could  be  anything  else  to 
you,  May,  she  would  not  deserve  the 
name  of  woman ; but  good  bye,  cousin, 
send  me  plenty  of  letters,  full  of  ser- 
mons if  you  please,  only  send  letters.” 

May  had  learned  that  she  need  not 
s'O  to  India  or  China  to  find  a mission ; 

O 

for  here,  in  the  quiet  seclusion  of  her 
home,  like  the  gentle  dew,  her  sweet 
ministry  of  long-suffering,  patient  love 
had  penetrated  the  heart  of  her  dear 
father,  and  brought  him  to  a Saviour’s 


MAT  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  225 

feet.  She  often  went  back  to  the  time 
when  in  the  Avarmth  of  youthful  dis- 
cipleship,  she  longed  to  follow  the  foot- 
steps of  Esther  Wingate,  in  her  mis- 
sion to  a foreign  land,  but  she  now 
remembered  that  this  lady  had  left  no 
invalid  father,  or  orphan  brother  and 
sister  beneath  the  domestic  roof,  and 
watching  the  guiding  finger  of  Provi- 
dence, she  had  followed  Avhere  it  led 
her,  and  May  Castleton  was  blessed — 
blessed  as  a loving,  faithful  daughter, 
as  a gentle,  patient  sister,  and  more  in 
addition,  as  permitted  to  minister  in  a 
someAvhat  broader  field ; May  Castle- 
ton Avill  always  be  blessed,  so  long  as 
she  exercises  the  lovely  grace  which  is 
ever  long-suffering  and  kind. 

The  next  Sunday  after  her  return, 
May  presented  herself  at  the  Bible- 


226  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

class,  where  Miss  Warren  still  guided 
the  footsteps  of  the  young. 

“ Welcome,  my  dear  child,”  said  the 
lady;  “why.  May,  you  have  really 
grown  to  be  a woman.” 

The  young  girl  smiled,  as  she  re- 
plied, 

“In  more  ways  than  one,  I hope. 
Miss  Warren.  I have  been  among 
such  excellent  people,  and  have  learned 
so  much  of  the  sweetness  of  true 
piety,  that  I feel  my  sojourn  in  a 
strange  land  has  been  an  unspeakable 
blessing.” 

“You  can  come  among  us  now,  dear, 
I hope  as  a laborer,”  continued  Miss 
Warren. 

“ I trust  so,  my  dear  friend ; papa 
wishes  me  to  please  myself  in  this 
particular,  and  I shall  want  my  little 
class  back  again.” 


MAY  HAS  FOUND  HER  MISSION.  227 

“You  will  find  them  under  the  care 
of  Julia  Howe,”  continued  her  friend. 
And  May  proceeded  to  the  large  room 
Avhere  the  principal  school  was  assem- 
bled. Several  eager  faces  of  children 
standing  upon  their  feet,  directed  her 
to  the  place  where  she  would  find 
them. 

The  girls  had  grown  very  much 
in  her  absence,  but  the  outstretched 
hands,  and  beaming  faces  told  her  how 
welcome  she  was  to  her  young  friends. 

“You  are  coming  back.  Miss  May, 
aren’t  you?”  said  Lizzie  Reynolds,  the 
oldest  of  the  class. 

“Yes,  children,  I shall  be  here  next 
Sunday,”  was  the  quick  reply,  “ and  I 
shall  have  a great  deal  to  tell  you 
about  the  little  girls  that  I have  seen 
in  other  lands.” 

Accordingly,  in  her  accustomed  seat, 


228  MAY  castleton’s  mission. 

we  behold  May  next  Sunday,  with  the 
added  experience  of  many  trials,  to 
aid  her  in  the  blessed  Avork. 

And  why  is  it  that  she  is  so  success- 
ful in  winning  her  way  to  youthful 
hearts?  Simply  that  in  her  looks  and 
words  are  pictured  the  sweetness  of 
that  “charity  which  suffereth  long  and 
is  kind.” 


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